


Le Beau et le Bête

by GalahadThePure



Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), AU, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Childhood Trauma, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, First Time, Horns, M/M, Masturbation, Tails, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-03-09 10:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 68,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18914701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadThePure/pseuds/GalahadThePure
Summary: "I will free her on one condition: you take her place."After finally achieving his dream of becoming an inquisitor, Curran must sacrifice his freedom in exchange for the orphan girl Lathna's to become the manservant of a hideous beast calling himself "Lord Nyarlathotep." At first, Curran and his new master despise each other, but once they begin living together, Curran learns his lord may not be such a monster after all."Un histoire d'une époque ancienne..."





	1. Felicitations!

     Curran knelt before the idol, the beautiful marble statue of Ilia at the heart of the Church. He clasped his hands together in prayer and closed his eyes. The cold press of the Cardinal’s finger, dipped in holy water, streaked his forehead, cleansing him of mortal sins before taking his oath of service.

     “Curran,” the cardinal said, “Do you swear to bring justice to the wicked and defend the innocent?”

     “I swear,” Curran replied.

   “Do you promise to uphold the sanctity of the Ilian Church, wielding your ax in the name of the Goddess?”

     “I promise.”

     “Do you vow to strike down heresy, whether the culprit is family or friend, to eliminate all evil in the world?”

     “I vow so.”

     The Cardinal bowed and placed his hand under Curran’s chin.

     “Then stand,” he ordered, “In the name of the Ilian Church and under the witness of the Goddess Ilia herself, I induct thee, Curran, into the Holy Inquisition of the Ilian Church.”

     The crowd of parishioners, paladyns, inquisitors, and clergymen cheered at the birth of a new inquisitor. Curran smiled with pride as he took his ax, raising it joyously to the crowd. His years of training under the clergy all led to this moment. He would have never believed that after years of struggling in poverty, he finally had a home with the Church. Curran would gladly lay down his life to uphold this position he had been granted.

     “Big brother!” a young girl’s voice shouted from the crowd.

     As Curran walked down from the steeple, the little girl wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tight. He smirked as he ruffled the girl’s long, beige hair.

     “Lathna,” he grinned, “The orphanage let you come to the ceremony today?”

     “I begged them to let me come!” she cheered, “I had to see my big bro’s dream come true! You’re going to be such a great Inquisitor!”

     “I’m glad you think so Lathna. I almost can’t believe it’s real. This all feels like a wonderful dream.”

     “You deserve it though! You worked so hard! I hope I can grow up to be big and strong just like you big brother!”

     “Well, if you work hard enough, you’ll certainly be able to.”

     “Big bro! We should go get you a pie to celebrate! I’ve been saving up rupies so I could get you something special!”

     Curran chuckled. He would have much preferred some nice ale over a dessert, but he couldn’t say no to Lathna. Though not related by blood, she was practically a younger sister to him. He helped rescue her from a ruined village on his first training mission for the Inquisition, and since then, she had viewed him as her savior.

     “A pie sounds delicious Lathna,” he praised, “Thank you.”

     Lathna giggled happily and tugged on his sleeve.

     “Come on then!” she urged, “We gotta get to the bakery while the pies are still fresh and hot!”

     Curran followed Lathna out of the Church, thanking the various people congratulating him for his induction into the Inquisition. Sunlight poured through the doors to the Church as Curran and Lathna stepped into the bright town square. It was a typical Sunday morning for most, but a cause for celebration for the new Inquisitor. Lathna beamed with joy at her “big brother,” pointing ahead to the wooden structure of the town bakery.

     “Hurry big bro!” she said, pulling him forward, “Let’s go!”

     “I’m hurrying Lathna,” Curran chuckled.

     They scurried down the cobblestone road to the quaint bakery. As soon as Lathna opened the door, she was greeted with the sweet aroma of fresh baked bread. She dropped Curran’s hand and rushed up to the counter, gazing in awe at the piping hot pies on display. Steam rose from the golden brown crusts and the delicious fruits encased within the beautiful latticework of the pastry made Lathna’s mouth water.

     “They all look so good!” Lathna salivated, “Big brother! Which one do you want?”

     Since he wasn’t that into sweets, Curran couldn’t really care about the pie. He was just happy to see Lathna enjoying herself.

     “How about you surprise me,” Curran said.

     Lathna’s eyes lit up. She could choose whichever pie she wanted. Lathna peered over the counter, carefully examining each pie before weighing her options. Once she had finally decided, she rang the bell to call the cashier over. He bent over and smiled at his young customer.

     “What will it be today little lady?” he asked.

     Lathna fished her coin purse out of her pocket, dumping a handful of rupies onto the counter.

     “One boysenberry pie please!” she smiled.

     The cashier grinned as he counted out the coins Lathna had laid out on the counter.

     “Coming right up!” he said, “Is this pie for your family, little lady?”

     “It’s for my brother!” Lathna beamed, “He just joined the Church Inquisition!”

     “Wow! You must be really proud of him!”

     “I am! He’s the best brother in the whole world!

     The cashier pulled the steaming, hot boysenberry pie from the display case, placing it in a box so Lathna wouldn’t burn her hands. He grabbed a jar and filled it to the brim with ice-cold milk, handing Lathna both the pie and the drink.

     “The milk is on the house little lady,” the cashier said.

     “Thank you!” Lathna grinned.

     Carefully, she carried the pie and the glass back to Curran. He happily took the pie from her and patted her on the head.

     “Thank you Lathna,” he said, “How about we go out to the field and share it. I’m sure it will be even more delicious out amongst the beautiful flowers.”

     “Yes! Yes!” Lathna agreed, jumping up and down, “Let’s go do that!”

     Curran waved to thank the cashier before opening the door and letting Lathna out. She happily sipped her jar of milk as the two headed to the outskirts of the small Church town, over to the field of vibrant flowers near the orphanage. Wind rippled across the grassy field, making the flowers look like gentle waves on the ocean. Curran opened the box and took out his Church sanctioned dagger, slicing off a piece for Lathna, ripping off the top of the box to use as a plate, and handing it to her.

     “But, big brother,” she said, “I got it for you.”

     “I want to share it with you Lathna,” he chuckled, “That’s why I told you to choose whatever you want.”

     Lathna’s stomach growled as she sniffed the sweet scent of the warm pie, reluctantly taking the slice Curran offered her. As Curran cut off a piece for himself, she took a bite. The buttery, flakey crust melted in her mouth and each bite of boysenberry popped with sweetness.

     “Yummy!” she said happily, savoring the delicious pastry, “It’s so good!”

     Curran took a bite of the pie himself. While he normally didn’t like desserts, this pie was pretty damn good. As they enjoyed their pie, Lathna’s childish, curious nature took over.

     “Big brother?” she asked, “What kind of flower is that over there?”

     Curran looked carefully at the beautiful bud, humming as he examined it to entertain Lathna’s imagination.

     “That,” he informed, “I think that is an amaryllis.”

     “It’s pretty! Big brother, what kind of bird is that over there?”

     “That’s a hummingbird. They like to drink the pollen from the flowers around here.”

     “Is it tasty?”

     “They probably think it’s tastier than this pie.”

     “I want to try pollen then!”

     “Hummingbirds may like it, but I don’t think humans would.”

     Lathna continued looking around until she spotted something in the distance. It looked like a large mansion, but the green patches over the sides made it look like vines and moss had overgrown on top of it.

     “Big brother,” Lathna said, “What’s that house over there?”

     Curran squinted, trying to discern something about the manor. He nearly dropped the pie when he realized what it was.

     “Lathna,” he warned, “You must never go over to that house.”

     “What? Why?”

     “The Inquisition has deemed that manor as cursed. Ten years ago, the former lord of the house was murdered by a political rival, and shortly after, the rest of the family disappeared.”

     “That’s so sad that they’re gone… So if no one lives there anymore, why is it dangerous?”

     “Someone still lives there… But it’s not human… A senior member of the Inquisition told me that a horrendous beast has taken residence in that estate.”

     “A- a monster?”

     “I mean, it may just be a rumor, but I wouldn’t want you taking any chances, Lathna.”

     “I understand big brother… I’ll never go near that house.”

     Curran patted Lathna’s head.

     “Good girl, Lathna,” he said.

     He looked down at the remains of the pie. There was still about half left, but Lathna was staring a hole in the leftovers.

     “Argh, Lathna, I’m so full!” he exaggerated, “I can’t eat another bite of this pie! How about you take it back to the orphanage and share it with the other kids?”

     “But…” Lathna said guiltily, “I got it for you… Did you not like it?”

     “Just being able to spend some time with you was enough for me, Lathna. You should share it with your friends.”

     Lathna hesitantly took the box from Curran, still salivating at what was left of the pie.

     “Ok,” she conceded, “Big brother, thank you for playing with me!”

     “Any time Lathna,” Curran chuckled, “Now, let’s get you back home.”

***

     The man looked up from his book, closing it and placing it back into his vast library. Despite many of the other parts of his estate falling into dust and disrepair from lack of use, the library would at least see constant use. These books were his only escape in his life of turmoil. Going back into the outside world was far too dangerous for an outcast like him, but at least with his books, he could transport himself to another world while being trapped forever in this prison he had made for himself. He looked towards the window looking out from his library. Moss had grown over the glass, nearly completely obscuring his view of the plains outside.

     “Maybe I could try to clear it down tonight?” he said to himself.

     He placed a hand up on the fragile glass. The course, gray flesh of his right hand got a chill from the cold of the window, and his talons instinctively retracted. He pulled his hand back in horror, staring at the discolored flesh and sharp claws.

     “No… I shouldn’t risk it,” he decided, “I can’t possibly let anyone see me like this…”


	2. Le Manoir Maudit

     “Tag! You’re it!” a little boy shouted, tapping his friend on the back.

     The orphanage’s playground was filled with cheers and laughter from children playing. Alex, the volunteer caretaker watched on with joy. As a former orphan herself, she loved to see these young children enjoying their lives. It did feel slightly busier though. With Curran now working full time as an Inquisitor, there was one less volunteer to keep the orphans in check.

     “Oww!” a little girl cried, stumbling over a rock in the playground.

     Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked down at the scratch now bleeding on her knee. Alex immediately rushed to the girl’s side.

     “What’s wrong, Eve?” she asked.

    “I fell and hurt my knee!” Eve whimpered.

     Alex examined the wound on the child’s knee. It was nothing serious, but she would definitely need to clean it out before it got infected. She extended her hand to the weeping child and smiled comfortingly.

     “It’s ok Eve,” she consoled, “We’ll take you to first aid and get you all cleaned up. Then how about we go get you some cookies to snack on. Would that make you feel better?”

     Eve wiped her eyes and sniffled, “Mhm…”

     Alex helped Eve to her knees and escorted her into the orphanage to dress her wound. Several of the more mischievous kids looked at each other smugly.

     “Heh, Alex’s gone!” a little boy snickered, “Let’s ditch the playground and go play in the field!”

     “Yeah! I’m with you Mikey!” another girl said.

     The two looked around the playground, hoping to convince others to join their game, when out of the corner of his eye, Mikey spotted Lathna reading a book under the shade of a tree. He cockily grinned and waltzed over to her.

     “Hey Lathna!” he said, “Sadie and I are going to sneak out to play in the field. Want to come?”

     Lathna set down her book nervously, “But isn’t that against the rules? We’ll be in big trouble if we get caught!”

   “Don’t be lame Lathna,” Sadie egged on, “Alex will never know we were gone. Or maybe you’re too chicken to go!”

     Sadie put her hands under her arms, flapping them up and down like a bird.

     “Bok! Bok! Bok!” she teased, “Lathna’s a chicken!”

   Lathna shook her head. She was a bit of a shy girl and didn’t have many friends. This might be a good opportunity to grow closer to some of the other kids. She gathered her courage and stood up.

     “I’m no chicken!” she proclaimed, “I’ll… I’ll go play in the field with you!”

     “Yay! I knew you were cool Lathna!” Mikey said, “Now lets hurry up and go before Alex gets back!”

     Mikey looked around one more time to ensure the coast was clear before hopping over the short wooden fence surrounding the playground. He offered his hand to the girls, helping them jump the hurdle of the fence without catching their skirts on it. He took a deep breath and puffed out his chest.

     “How about we have a race!” he suggested.

     Mikey looked out towards the horizon, pointing out a tree about 200 meters away atop a small hill.

     “First one to that tree is the winner!” he proposed, “And the person who comes in last has to do whatever the winner says!”

     “Oh you’re on!” Sadie yelled, getting into position.

    Lathna unfortunately wasn’t too keen on this idea. Her constitution was weak and her stamina low. She knew that Mikey would easily outrun her.

     “Can’t we just pick flowers and play hide and seek?” Lathna suggested.

     “That’s lame!” Sadie jeered, “You don’t want to be a lame-o, do you Lathna?”

     Lathna frowned and looked down at her feet. She desperately wanted more friends. Even though Mikey was a fast runner, maybe she would be able to outrun Sadie.

     “I…” she stammered, “I’ll do it!”

     “Aw yeah!” Mikey cheered.

     Lathna lunged into her starting position, looking over at her competition. Mikey was already chomping at the bit to start.

     “On your marks,” he announced, “Get set… Go!”

     The three took off, sprinting through the grassy field towards their finish line. Mikey immediately pulled into the lead, his longer legs being a huge advantage against the two girls. Lathna wasn’t dissuaded though. She didn’t need to win. As long as she came in second place, she would be happy. Mustering up her strength, Lathna lept forward, getting a lead on Sadie. She emptied her mind of all other thoughts, focusing solely on running. The tree was starting to get closer. Lathna could see the light at the end of the tunnel, when suddenly her breathing grew rough. Her pace went from a rapid sprint, to a brisk jog, to a crawl. She couldn’t breathe. If she had some water, even a time out, maybe she’d be able to recover and come in second place. Alas, it seemed like it was already too late.

     “HAHA! I WIN!” Mikey cheered, climbing onto the tree, “Hurry up Lathna! Sadie is gaining on you!”

     Lathna looked behind her, her pupils shrinking in horror. Sadie had already almost caught up to her, and there was no way Lathna could continue running. At this rate, she was going to lose. Tears spilt from Lathna’s eyes as she forced herself to at least jog. Sadie sprinted past her, getting close to the tree marking their goal.

     _“Wait!”_ Lathna thought, _“Let me catch up! Don’t leave me behind! I don’t want to lose!”_

     She froze as soon as Sadie reached the finish line, high fiving with Mikey to land her in second place. Lathna dropped to her knees. She lost.

     “Aww! I wish I won, but second place isn’t bad I guess,” Sadie grumbled, “Better luck next time Lathna!”

     Mikey ran over to Lathna and reached out his hand. She looked up at him, tears clouding her vision, and shakily accepted.

     “Just cuz you lost doesn’t mean you can’t finish,” he said, trying to cheer her up, “Come on! Let’s walk to the finish line together! You look pretty tired.”

     Lathna wiped her tears and followed Mikey. That was surprisingly nice of him. Even though she came in last place, maybe his orders as the victor of the race wouldn’t be so harsh. They climbed up the slight incline of the hill, making it to the shady tree amidst the field of flowers. Lathna nearly gasped at the view. She could see the whole field from here, plus the orphanage and the village.

     “So pretty,” she gaped.

     “Yeah this is a pretty nice view!” Sadie added, “Darn shame that ugly mansion over there ruins it…”

     Lathna turned her head and her jaw dropped in shock. They were just meters away from that manor that Curran had warned her not to go near. How could she not have noticed it? Was her fatigue that bad?

     “Y’know, I’m kinda thirsty after that run,” Mikey commented, “Lathna, how about you go over to that house and ask the person who owns it if they cane give us some water.”

     “I…” Lathna stuttered, “I don’t think I can do that. Big broth- Curran warned me not to go near that place…”

     “It’s just an ugly house,” Sadie remarked, “What’s so dangerous about that…”

     “He…” Lathna informed, “He said a monster lives in there…”

     Sadie raised her brows in intrigue.

     “Really?” she asked, “That makes it even cooler! Besides, Mikey won and you have to do whatever he says!”

     “I don’t know Sadie…” Mikey added, “Making her go ask a monster for some water? That seems pretty mean…”

     “She lost! She has to do it!” Sadie ordered.

     “Well, I’m gonna go with her,” Mikey said bravely.

     Lathna and Sadie looked at Mikey surprisedly.

     “But Mikey,” Lathna said, “You don’t have to…”

     “I want to Lathna!” he assured, “I wanna be a Paladyn when I grow up, so I gotta be brave enough to protect my friends!”

     Just hearing Mikey call her a “friend” was enough to fill Lathna with courage. She grabbed onto his hand and started walking with him towards the manor.

     “I… I’ll just stay here. I’ll keep watch,” Sadie fibbed.

     Mikey and Lathna approached the large estate. It was covered in overgrown moss and weeds overtook the vegetable and flower gardens. Windows were cracked and stones were missing from the outside walls of the house. It certainly looked like no one had been inside in years. Maybe the monster supposedly living in this house really was just a rumor. Lathna raised her hand to the door, brushing her knuckle against the moldy wood.

     “Umm, should I knock?” she asked.

     “If there really is a monster living in here, we probably shouldn’t let him know we’re coming,” Mikey suggested, “Let’s see if the door is unlocked.”

     Mikey placed his hand at the doorknob and took a deep breath. Lathna secretly hoped that is was locked, but to her dismay, it creaked open as soon as Mikey turned the handle.

     “Looks like it’s open,” Mikey said, “Here’s hoping no one is home…”

     Slowly, Mikey pushed the door all the way open, stepping inside the old manor. The inside was nearly pitch black. The only sources of lighting were the dim, distorted green light from the sun shining through the moss covered windows, and a faint light from underneath one of the doors near the end of the foyer.

     “If there’s a light…” Lathna whimpered, “Doesn’t that mean someone’s… home?”

     “Be brave Lathna,” Mikey encouraged, “Lets just find the kitchen and get out of here.”

     Lathna nodded her head and followed Mikey through the dark foyer. From the dim light, Lathna could make out portraits adorning the walls and antiques on display on podiums. Whoever owned this place must have been very wealthy. Lathna stopped in front of one of the paintings, examining it closely. It was a portrait of a family; a father, a mother, and two children. The younger brother in the picture looked no older than them. Lathna recalled that the family that lived here went missing ten years ago. This must be them. Lathna looked into the painted red eyes of the little boy in the picture. His long black hair nearly covered half of his face and his spectacles lay haphazardly across the bridge of his nose. In a way, seeing this picture of him made Lathna feel sad. Maybe she could have been friends with this boy, but he was gone forever, lost without a trace.

     “Hey, Lathna,” Mikey said, bringing her back to reality, “We probably shouldn’t hang around for too long.”

     “Yeah,” Lathna replied sadly, “Hey, Mikey… You don’t think this monster… eats people… right?”

     “I don’t know… and I don’t want to find out…”

     They proceeded down the hall and into the kitchen. Dust and spider webs hung in the cabinets and the tools looked as if they had been untouched for years. Mikey walked to the sink and attempted to turn on the faucet. Not even a drop of water came out. It appeared the pipes had rusted shut.

     “Looks like we won’t be getting our water here…” Mikey sighed, “Now lets get out of here, this place is really creepy.”

     Lathna grabbed Mikey’s hand, proceeding back to the foyer. As they got closer, it seemed oddly lighter. Lathna froze in place before they reached the door. The formerly closed door to that room at the end of the foyer… was open. Lathna and Mikey weren’t alone in this house.

     “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” a voice shouted from the hallway, “LEAVE AT ONCE.”

     Lathna and Mikey shrieked in terror. Someone, no, some _thing_ was running towards them. While its body looked human, hideous black wings sprouted out of its back and pointed horns grew from its mop of silver and black hair. Its eyes burned red with bloodlust, and patches of its skin were sickly gray.

     “Lathna! Hurry!” Mikey shouted, “We gotta get out of here!”

     Lathna couldn’t speak, let alone move. She was completely paralyzed in fear. Deep inside, she knew she couldn’t outrun this monster. Using all of her strength and breath, she managed to squeak out: “Run!”

     Mikey turned tail in horror, dashing out of the manor and not looking back. He felt like a coward, leaving Lathna behind, but he was young and unarmed. There was no way he could beat a monster like that. If there was any hope of saving her, Mikey needed to find help.


	3. Le Détenu

 

     Curran ground the blade of his ax against the whetstone, buffing the sturdy iron to a sharp point. It had only been a week since he officially joined the Inquisition, but he had already accomplished so much, his once pristine battle-ax was growing dull. This was where he was truly meant to be. He heard a knock at the door to his room in the barracks, setting his ax down to go answer it. Certainly it was the Cardinal informing him of another quest, or maybe he was finally going to get a partner. To his surprise, it the person at the door wasn’t the Cardinal, but the Church Assassin Alex, with two orphans in tow. Her face was bright white in shock and the little boy standing next to her was bawling his eyes out.

     “Alex?” Curran asked, “What happened?”

     “Lathna…” Alex choked out, “Lathna… is being detained by the beast from that cursed estate…”

     Curran’s heart fell to his stomach.

     “WHAT?” he replied in shock.

     “I’m so sorry Mr. Curran…” Mikey whimpered, “I couldn’t protect her… It’s my fault…”

     “What happened?” he asked, “Why was she even near that manor?”

     “I… I wanted to go play with her in the fields,” Mikey sobbed, “We raced to the tree and Lathna lost… so I asked her to go get us some water from that house as a punishment… I… I went with her… But when we saw the monster… I ran away… She couldn’t even move…”

     “Mikey…” Alex consoled, “It’s ok.”

     “I’ll never be a good Paladyn!” he cried, “I couldn’t even help Lathna escape! What if that monster ate her?”

     Curran gritted his teeth and clenched his hand into a fist, his fingernails digging into the soft flesh of his palm. He was seething with anger, not at Lathna, Alex, or the orphans who left her behind, but that beast who was holding her captive.

     “I’ll go rescue her,” Curran grunted with determination, “I’ll kill that horrible beast for laying its hands on her.”

     “Should I come with you?” Alex asked, “I can give you backup.”

     “No… He took Lathna. This is personal. It’s between me and that monster.”

     Curran grabbed his ax and stormed past Alex, not saying another word. He would save Lathna no matter what. Curran’s grip on his weapon tightened as he approached the plains. What was once a source of good memories with Lathna was overwritten by rage and fear. He didn’t know much about the beast living in that manor other than that it was a hideous creature. If it so much as laid a finger on her though, he would not hesitate to kill it. He stomped over the amaryllis flowers that Lathna had so enjoyed gazing at, making his way up the hill to the moss covered mansion. He kicked in the mold-rotted door, brandishing his ax.

     “Lathna!” he yelled, “Lathna where are you? Big bro is here to rescue you!”

   “Ho? So you came for the girl,” an unknown voice growled.

     A dark figure descended the staircase. While it wore the attire of a nobleman, it certainly wasn’t human. Its sinister black wings fluttered behind it and sharp horns encircled the crown of its head. As it came closer to Curran, its bright red eyes stared at its unwelcomed guest, peering out from under its mess of disheveled, silvering hair. It placed a cold, gray hand on the handrail of the staircase and snarled maliciously, bearing its sharp fangs.

     “Don’t you know that it is rude to enter someone’s home without permission?” it scowled.

     “What did you do to Lathna?” Curran shouted.

     “The girl?” it teased, “Perhaps you should ask her for yourself.”

     The beast snapped, materializing a portal in front of Curran. Lathna stumbled out of it, landing at Curran’s feet.

     “Lathna!” he yelled, wrapping her up tightly in a hug.

     “Big brother!” she cried.

     “Don’t worry, everything is alright. I’ll get you out of here,” he comforted.

     “I don’t think that’s a wise idea,” the monster hissed, “Look at the girl’s neck.”

     Curran pushed aside Lathna’s hair and examined her neck. On the right side, atop her jugular vein, was a glowing violet insignia.

     “What is that?” Curran asked, “You fiend! What did you do to her?”

     “That,” the monster grinned, “Is the sigil of Nyarlathotep. It places the girl under my domain. Anyone or anything with that brand on them is my property. If she decides to leave the manor without my permission, her jugular will be sliced open, and she will die.”

     “You bastard!” Curran shouted, “Remove it at once!”

     “I don’t see why I should,” it answered cheekily, “She wanted to enter my estate so badly, I simply granted her wish. Now she will be a guest here until the end of her days.”

     “REMOVE IT! NOW!” Curran ordered, “I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU IF YOU DON’T.”

     He charged towards the beast, slashing his ax at its chest, but it skillfully dodged the attack, making Curran fall forward.

     “That also would not be a wise idea,” the monster smirked, “Anyone with that brand is bound to me. If you take my life, I will take her with me. You will feel the pain of losing your precious sister by killing me. Is that really worth it?”

     “You’re the devil…” Curran cursed, getting to his feet.

     “Big brother…” Lathna whimpered.

     “Well,” the beast said, “I suppose there is one way for her to leave. I have been alone in this manor for the past ten years of my life. Children are annoying, but I suppose having a manservant would be nice. I will remove her sigil on one condition: you will take her place.”

     “Big brother!” Lathna shouted, “Don’t do it!”

     Curran dropped his ax in surrender. He was finally happy with his life. He had his dream career, escaped poverty, and even had people to consider a family now, but he would gladly throw it all away to let Lathna be free. He pulled aside his collar and exposed his neck. A twisted smile spread across the beast’s face.

     “Give me the damn sigil already,” Curran ordered, “And let her go.”

     “Gladly,” the beast replied victoriously.

     He placed his thumb atop the sigil on Lathna’s neck, removing the glowing dark magic rune from her flesh. The beast placed his thumb to his mouth, the sigil now glowing vibrantly on his long tongue. Curran winced as the monster bit down into the flesh of his neck, licking up the fresh blood. The area stung, not from the monster’s piercing fangs, but from the magic insignia being burnt into his skin. The beast pulled away and licked its lips.

     “Your skin tastes of sweat,” he prodded, “At least your blood has a nice taste to it. I look forward to your service.”

     Curran sneered, looking away from the monster and towards Lathna.

     “Big brother…” she choked.

   “Go, Lathna,” he ordered, “Go and never come back.”

     “I’ll get help! I’ll…”

     “No! Leave me be. If the Inquisition comes and kills this beast, I will die with it. Just tell them I went on a pilgrimage to Alberia… Now go home…”

     Tears welled up in Lathna’s eyes. She ran up to give Curran one last hug. He held her tight, her tears soaking into his clothes. Curran was upset at this outcome too, but he had to be strong for her. Lathna had so much more to live for. She finally separated from him and headed to the door, slowly closing it behind her. Curran was now all alone with this beast, his new master.

     “Now,” the monster said, “What should I call you?”

     “Excuse me?” Curran responded.

     “I’m certain you have a name.”

     “I do. It’s Curran.”

     The monster rolled his name around on its tongue, it flowing like silk out of its mouth.

     “What about you,” Curran asked, “Unless you want me calling you Sir Bastard…”

     “Heh, you certainly have spunk,” the monster snickered, “You shall address me as Lord Nyarlathotep.”

     “Gnarly-what?”

     “Nyar-la-tho-tep.”

     “The hell kind of name is that?”

     “That is no way to talk to your master, Curran. Especially when your master is one of the gods of the abyss.”

     Curran froze. This being was a god? He had seen its power first hand with the sigils and the portal, but it was still terrifying to be in the presence of a deity other than Ilia.

     “I’m sorry,” Curran responded, swallowing his pride, “Lord Nyarlathotep.”

     Nyarlathotep chuckled, “See that wasn’t so hard. Now that you shall be living here for the rest of your life, perhaps I should find a place for you to sleep. I have taken up residence in the son’s room, but you may feel free to take your pick of the other available ones. I fear most of them haven’t been touched in a decade though, so you might have to do some cleaning lest you want to sleep with spiders and rats.”

     “I’m surprised you wouldn’t take the master bedroom. Wouldn’t a kid’s room be a bit small for you?”

   “The boy was fifteen when he passed. His bed is large enough for me and the master bedroom was far too ostentatious for my taste.”

     “Well I suppose I’ll go check that unoccupied bedroom out.”

     “I will be in the library. I shall call you down when it is time for supper.”

     Nyarlathotep turned around, retreating to the room at the end of the foyer’s hall. Curran never realized that the beast had a tail as well, and it was long enough to drag on the ground behind him. The door slammed shut behind Nyarlathotep, and Curran took a moment to examine his new “home.” While it had certainly fallen into disrepair, he was confident it could be fixed. He was going to be living here for the rest of his life, so he might as well make the most of it. He headed upstairs, the wooden steps creaking under his weight. A glass chandelier dangled from the ceiling and sconces remained unlit along the walls of the upper floor. He walked down the hallway, opening the doors of the different rooms to find out where he would be staying.

     The first door led to a bathroom. While it wasn’t the most pristine, it was still usable at the very least. He turned on the faucet, ensuring the water was potable. Fortunately, it flowed clearly out of the sink. At least the upper floors pipes hadn’t rusted shut. The room next to it was locked. Curran could only assume that this was where the monster himself took up residence. He proceeded down the hallway, eventually reaching the room at the end. Curran opened the door to find a large, open room with a giant bed in the center. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and Curran nearly choked on a dust cloud upon entry. It was clear this room hadn’t been used for a long time. He wiped his finger along one of the dresser drawers, removing a thick layer of dust and filth. The bed sheets were infested with bugs and in desperate need of washing. Moths made a meal of the silk curtains, forming gaping holes in the soft fabric. This place was an utter mess, but with enough elbow grease, Curran could probably make it habitable. He rolled up his sleeves, cracked his knuckles, and got to work.


	4. La Bricolage

 

     _“Under the curse of the vindictive witch, the prince’s transparent skin grew coarse with fur as thick as a boar’s bristle. Agony pulsed through his temples as horns tore the flesh of his forehead asunder, sprouting as his crown of thorns. His teeth grew sharp as a lion’s and his delicate fingernails grew into piercing claws._

_‘How could this happen,’ the prince bemoaned, shunning his new hideous visage._

_‘Consider this your penance,’ the witch scolded, ‘Now you are just as hideous on the outside as you are on the inside.’_

_‘Foul maiden!’ he cursed, ‘Remove this plight you have cast upon me!’_

_The witch cackled, ‘That is a task you shall have to undertake for yourself. Find someone who can love you in spite of your appearance. Only then shall the curse be broken…”_

     Nyarlathotep closed the book, casting it to the side of his library.

     “What a farce,” he hissed, “What sane person would fall in love with a monster…”

     The grandfather clock in the room chimed, its bells ringing five times to indicate it was the fifth hour of the evening. Nyarlathotep supposed now would be a good time for supper. He rose from his armchair and placed the discarded book back on the shelf before leaving the room. Curran was nowhere in sight, but thanks to the sigil burnt onto his neck, Nyarlathotep could discern where he was within the manor. He closed his eyes and focused on his manservant’s image. His vision went black and white as Curran came into focus. He was in the master bedroom, making the bed. To Nyarlathotep’s surprise, the room actually looked cleaner. He had to go see this for himself.

     Nyarlathotep ascended the staircase, proceeding down the hallway of the second floor to the master bedroom. When he opened the door, he almost couldn’t believe the sight. All of the dust and cobwebs from years of neglect had been swept away, making the wooden surfaces of the dressers shine as if they were brand new. The holes on the silk curtains were patched up with excess fabric, and the bed had been made with freshly cleaned sheets. Curran leaned out the window, shaking the rug clean of dust and dirt. Nyarlathotep approached him, tapping on his shoulder.

     “I wasn’t expecting you to actually clean the place,” he said.

     “If I didn’t I would have suffocated on dust in my sleep,” Curran replied, tugging the carpet back inside.

     He laid the rug at the foot of the bed, straightening out the stray fibers of thread.

     “What brings you up here?” he asked.

     “It is time for supper,” Nyarlathotep informed.

     “Guess since I’m your servant, I’ll be the one cooking huh?”

     “No need. I have an ample supply of dried meat in the pantry. That will be our nourishment for tonight.”

     _“Dried meat? Seriously?”_ Curran thought.

     With the title of “lord” Curran at least expected him to have fresh, high quality ingredients to work with. He was used to eating rations in his training for the inquisition, but it was still a disappointment.

     “What kind of dried meat is it…” Curran asked, worried that the beast had prepared something weird.

     Nyarlathotep sighed, “It’s venison… What were you thinking it was, human flesh?”

     “Considering you said my blood tasted good earlier…”

     “Calm yourself. I don’t eat humans.”

     Curran let out a sigh of relief. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about being eaten in his sleep.

     “Aren’t you hungry?” Nyarlathotep asked, “I don’t have to eat that often, but I know humans are fragile creatures that require nourishment every few hours.”

     “Look at you actually caring about my wellbeing,” Curran retorted.

     “Don’t flatter yourself. You are a manservant and nothing more. Be grateful that I actually decided to feed you.”

     Nyarlathotep turned around, signaling Curran to follow him. They headed downstairs into the kitchen. This area looked just as bad, if not worse than the master bedroom.

     “I guess you never cook for yourself,” Curran commented.

     “I only leave this manor on rare occasions, often in the dead of night,” Nyarlathotep informed, “Fresh food would spoil too fast to do me any good, so I make do with preserved goods.”

     Nyarlathotep showed Curran to the pantry, opening the door to a massive, walk-in food storage unit. Different cuts of preserved meats hung on display and vegetables pickled in large barrels. Bottles of wine sat in racks, yet looked as though they had never been opened and cereals of rice and grains were packaged up in burlap sacks.

     “Whatever you choose, make sure you don’t take too much,” Nyarlathotep said, “I have a limited amount and it is very difficult for me to acquire more.”

     “Thanks I guess…” Curran responded.

     He carefully looked around the pantry at Nyarlathoteps hoard of preserved goods. Meat would probably be the best option for him, so he pulled out his dagger and sliced a chunk of salted venison jerky off of the large slab hanging amongst the charcuterie. It was about a six-ounce portion, good enough to tide him over until morning.

     “Are you going to eat anything?” Curran asked, taking a bite of the salty dried meat.

     “No,” Nyarlathotep replied, “Like I said earlier, I don’t need to eat that often.”

     Curran ran up behind his master, trying to make some sort of peace.

     “Do you at least want to sit together?” Curran wondered, “If I can never leave this place, I might as well get to know you.”

     That struck a nerve with Nyarlathotep.

     “I am not your friend,” he snapped, “I am your master and you are my slave. Let me make this perfectly clear. I despise humans. They are weak, pathetic creatures. The only reason I didn’t kill you, or that girl for that matter is because you could possibly be a source of entertainment and labor.”

     Curran went silent. He still felt angry about being held here against his will, but he was just trying to make the best of a bad situation. Curran didn’t even care about being “friends” with his new master; he just didn’t want to get on his bad side. Nyarlathotep scowled and turned his back to Curran.

     “I am going to the library,” he hissed, “Once you are finished with your supper, get back to work on cleaning this manor.”

     Nyarlathotep stormed off to his library, not saying another word, leaving Curran speechless. He looked down at his half eaten chunk of meat. Suddenly he didn’t really feel that hungry anymore. He walked back to the pantry, placing it back with the other pieces of dried meat. This pantry was certainly large enough to be able to hold fresh food. It even looked like there was a space in the back meant to be an ice box for perishables, but if what Nyarlathotep said was true about the mark he had been branded with, Curran could only ever dream about being able to eat fresh food again.

     “He did have a garden, come to think of it,” Curran said to himself, “Maybe with some upkeep, we can at least have fresh produce.”

     He headed to the library door, knocking gently. Curran could hear an angry growl from behind as the door slowly creaked open.

     “What do you want, slave?” Nyarlathotep grumbled.

     “Can I try to fix up your garden?” he asked, “I know you said I can never leave the manor, but so long as I’m on estate property, it should be fine right?”

     “Are you really that desperate for fresh food?”

     “I promise I’ll do all the work for maintaining it. I just don’t think I’ll be able to survive on preserved meat and veggies forever. Too much salt is bad for anyone.”

     Nyarlathotep sighed in defeat, “Fine, you can try to revive the garden, but don’t try anything funny. If you take so much as one step off of the estate, I will activate that sigil and kill you without hesitation.”

     “I wouldn’t think of it, Lord Nyarlathotep,” Curran responded.

     Nyarlathotep grumbled gruffly and closed the door to the library. With permission from his master, Curran walked out the back door to the manor and into the back yard. While the herb gardens were out front, it appeared the vegetable gardens, now overtaken by weeds, made up most of the backyard. Curran spotted a shed built into the walls of the house and an old well beside it. He opened the doors to the shed and rusted, old gardening tools tumbled out. It appeared this was the groundskeeper’s shed, and like everything else in this manor, all of the tools had been neglected for the past ten years. Though they were rusty, perhaps a few of them could be usable. Curran took the hoe and spade in hand, getting ready to do some garden work.

***

     Nyarlathotep slunk down against the door, sighing in exasperation.

     “Who does that human think he is?” he ranted, “I am a beast, a foul malevolent being holding him here as my prisoner… Why would he even try to get close to me…”

     He shook his head. Reading another book would help to get that human off his mind. Besides, if Curran wanted to attempt the fool’s errand of restoring this manor, Nyarlathotep wouldn’t stop him. He had been growing tired of living in squalor. Grabbing his ladder, Nyarlathotep headed deeper into his archives. Though the library seemed unassuming on the outside, it was in fact the largest room in the manor. Books lined the walls, climbing up from the floor to the sixteen-foot ceiling. Nyarlathotep easily had thousands of books in his collection, yet he had probably read each one at least twice. He placed the ladder against the wall, skimmed through the thick leather spines of his book collection, and plucked one out to reread. As he descended, he noticed the green moss covering the glass window to the outside was being yanked down. He crept over to see Curran pulling the blanket of moss down from the window, allowing the last light of the evening to creep into the room.

     “Getting to work on the garden this late?” Nyarlathotep sighed, “He truly is a fool.”

     Nyarlathotep returned to his armchair to read the book he had selected, yet he couldn’t focus on the text at all. He tried cleaning his spectacles to see if that was the problem, but to his dismay, the book wasn’t capturing his interest.

     “What the hell,” he cursed to himself, “Have I read this so frequently I’ve gotten bored of it?”

     He looked up from the book to see Curran passing back and forth by the window, carrying different tools to take care of the garden. Curiously, Nyarlathotep walked over to the window, opening it up to watch Curran at work. He was completely engrossed in pulling the stubborn weeds from the garden’s bed.

     “I fear reviving that garden might be a bit of a Herculean task,” Nyarlathotep commented.

     Curran turned his head to see his master leaning out the window, watching him work.

     “It’s worth a try.” Curran replied.

     “Such a stubborn man.”

     “Being stubborn ain’t a bad thing.”

     “Sometimes you need to know when to quit. If you pass the point of no return, you’ll just spend your life filled with regret.”

     “I’d rather regret my failures than live in blindsight dwelling on what could have been.”

     Nyarlathotep almost fell out of the window from cackling so hard.

     “What’s so funny?” Curran asked.

     “Don’t you mean ‘hindsight’ you absolute buffoon?” Nyarlathotep snickered.

     “Hey, idioms are hard to learn!”

     “Reading more can remedy that. How often do you read Curran?”

     “Only when I have to.”

     “Therein explains why grasping idioms is so difficult for you. That, or you’re simply an idiot. Based on my short time of knowing you, I’m going to believe the latter.”

     “You ass…”

     Nyarlathotep grinned and laughed. For some reason, he enjoyed watching Curran hard at work. Perhaps it was his sadistic desire to see humans fail at tasks they couldn’t handle, but even making chatter with Curran gave Nyarlathotep a sense of bliss. After being a recluse for ten years, just having another living creature around him comforted him. Nyarlathotep looked up to the sky. Stars speckled the pitch-black night sky, and a small crescent moon shone like a shrewd grin.

     “Curran,” Nyarlathotep ordered, “You can finish it tomorrow. It is getting far too dark out to do any more gardening work.”

    “Really? I’m getting a break already?” Curran replied sarcastically, “I guess my master isn’t such a slave-driver.”

     “Don’t push your luck. Without daylight and sleep, your work will become sloppy. I would rather wait until tomorrow when you have more energy to struggle.”

     “I guess you’re kinda looking out for me then. Alright I’ll come inside.”

     Curran stood up from the half pruned garden, heading back into the warmth of the manor. Nyarlathotep closed the window and took a book from the shelf and a torch from one of the sconces in his library, carrying them into the foyer to meet up with Curran.

     “I know humans have a difficult time seeing in the dark,” Nyarlathotep said, “So you can light the sconces. I’m going to retire for the night. I will see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

     Curran took the torch from his master, allowing Nyarlathotep to ascend the stairway with his book.

     “Just place the torch in any of the empty sconces,” he shouted down to Curran, “I don’t want you setting this place aflame.”

     “Understood,” Curran replied, “Sweet dreams.”

     “Oh shut up…” Nyarlathotep responded.

     Curran was just about to ascend the stairs when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye, a note sticking out from under a framed picture. He held his torch aloft, illuminating the picture. It was a family portrait of what he assumed was the noble family that once lived here. The father was a tall, intimidating looking man with curly black hair and a well-maintained beard and moustache. Silver streaked the sides of his hair and spotted his beard, indicating his age, and his violet eyes bore a stern expression.

     To his left was a woman, who Curran assumed was the mother. She didn’t smile, but she had a gentle air about her, especially in her lithe, scarlet eyes. Her brown hair was tied up neatly into a bun and her hand rested on the younger girl’s shoulder. That must have been the daughter. She looked almost identical to her mother, but with her father’s violet eyes. The last person in the portrait was the son. He looked no more than nine or ten years old, yet he wore spectacles over his bright, red eyes. His long, black hair was tied back in a short ponytail, but his bangs covered nearly half of his face. He almost looked frightened in this picture, but Curran couldn’t tell why.

     His eyes shifted to the note sticking out of the bottom of the frame. Curiously, he slipped it out, unfolding the sheet of paper and reading it to himself.

     _“Portrait of Lord Wolfgang and his family: his wife Lady Charlotte, his daughter, Lady Gretchen, and his son, Lord Heinwald.”_

     Curran tucked the note back into the frame. He was a bit confused why a being who hated humans kept a painting of the family that supposedly disappeared shortly after he took up residence here. Something was odd about Nyarlathotep, and Curran had a feeling this painting was his first clue to discovering the truth.


	5. La Bibliothéque du Bête

 

     Curran wiped his the sweat from his brow, admiring his work. After several days of hard labor, all of the weeds were gone from the vegetable garden. The seeds of his labor were starting to bear fruit, both figuratively and literally, as he could see the garden’s squash, celery, and spinach beginning to germinate in the now free soil.

     “I can’t believe you did it,” Nyarlathotep said, standing in the doorway to the back yard.

     In his hands were two glasses of water, now finally potable after Curran had fixed the pipes to the kitchen sink. The manor was by no way in perfect condition again, but at least the kitchen, master bedroom, most of the foyer, and now the vegetable garden had been restored. Curran approached his master, gladly accepting the glass of water. He swigged down the refreshing drink, sating his parched throat.

     “It’ll be a few months until the vegetables are ready to be harvested,” Curran told, “But it’s at least something we can look forward to.”

     “Something _you_ can look forward to,” Nyarlathotep corrected, “I never enjoyed the taste of fresh vegetables. Pickled ones are fine for me.”

     “What are you, ten years old? For a God of the Abyss, you have the taste buds of a child…”

     “Balderdash, I’m probably around your age. You’re what, 25 years old?”

     “26 actually.”

     “Ah, so you’re a year older than me.”

     Curran was shocked that his master was so young. Not just the fact that he claimed he was a god, but Nyarlathotep’s hair was streaked with silver, clearly a sign of age or stress.

     “But speaking of food, you must be hungry,” Nyarlathotep added, “It seems you certainly enjoy the dried venison. Perhaps I’ll have to go hunting for more tonight.”

     “You want me to come with you?” Curran offered, “I’m pretty good with an ax.”

     “I doubt you would enjoy it. My hunts typically take place at two in the morning. I wouldn’t want to risk being seen by anyone. Let me remain as an urban legend.”

     “You got me there. I can’t even imagine going hunting that late… or that early.”

     “For a human it would be nearly impossible. Fortunately I can see better in the dark than I can in the light.”

     “Explains the specs. Never would have thought Gods needed glasses…”

     Nyarlathotep scowled, “Don’t test my patience manservant. Hurry up and come inside to eat.”

     Curran followed his master inside to the now clean kitchen. He headed into the pantry, examining the food available inside. The once huge salted venison leg now barely had enough meat to cling to the bone. He turned his gaze to the sacks of flour and rice, the bottles of wine sitting unopened in their racks, and the various dried vegetables and aged cheeses hanging amongst the charcuterie. Suddenly, inspiration struck.

     “Lord Nyarlathote-OW! I bit my tongue,” he cursed, “Can’t I call you something easier to say, like Nyarla?”

     “No,” Nyarlathotep answered angrily.

     “Fine then… but anyways, would you mind if I use the stove? All of the pots and pans are clean now.”

     “Knock yourself out.”

     With the ok from Nyarlathotep, Curran took off his gloves and washed his hands, getting ready to prepare something for lunch. He grabbed a pot and ladle from the cupboard and walked into the pantry. Curran tore open the top of the bag of rice, scooping some into the pot before returning to the sink to wash it. As the cold water poured over the rice, Curran washed the delicate grains, cleaning them of dirt and debris. He continued to rinse and drain until the water pouring out of the pot ran clear.

     Nyarlathotep pulled up a chair from the dinner table, watching Curran work with intrigue. Curran transferred the rice to a pan and rushed back into the pantry, grabbing a bottle of white wine, some dried mushrooms, olive oil, and a chunk of Parmesan cheese. He immediately dumped the mushrooms into a pot of water and set it to a boil, letting it steep into a rich vegetable stock. Nyarlathotep tilted his head inquisitively.

     “What are you making?” he asked.

     “Risotto,” Curran replied, “It tastes better if you have fresh butter, but I figured you had enough ingredients to make a decent one.”

     “Interesting…” Nyarlathotep responded.

     Once the water holding the dried mushrooms turned a rich golden brown, the vegetable stock was ready. Curran lit another burner and drizzled a generous amount of olive oil in a pan, letting it steam and sizzle as it warmed up. He poured in the washed rice, coating it with the thick, golden liquid before using the ladle to pour some of the broth into the pan. The rice slowly sucked up the broth, taking on its golden brown color. He uncorked the wine and poured in a splash of it, stirring it until the risotto began to thicken.

     The rice dish was beginning to smell incredible. Even Nyarlathotep himself couldn’t help but salivate as Curran added more of the mushroom stock. After a few minutes, all of the stock had been absorbed into the fluffy rice, and Curran grated the chunk of Parmesan on top, finishing it with the cheese’s salty kick.

     He pulled out two plates and spoons from the cabinet, dishing the creamy risotto onto the clean plates. Curran carried the risotto over his master, handing him one of the two plates.

     “Why did you make one for me?” he asked, “I told you I don’t have to eat that often.”

     “Well,” Curran replied, “There’s just something about sharing a home cooked meal with someone that makes it taste even better.”

     Nyarlathotep blushed, gripping onto the plate.

     “As long as you didn’t try to poison me,” Nyarlathotep hissed, “We shall eat this in the dining room. If you made an actual meal for me, I might as well enjoy it in the traditional manner.”

     He carried his plate to the dining room, sitting down at the head of the table. Curran followed, sitting next to him. He clasped his hands together, mumbling a prayer under his breath. Nyarlathotep rolled his eyes, feeling a bit insulted that Curran was praying to another god in his presence.

     “Well, time to eat up while it’s still hot,” Curran said, lifting up a spoonful to his mouth.

     Nyarlathotep watched as Curran tasted the risotto, smiling in enjoyment. If Curran was eating it, he figured it would be safe to eat. Nyarlathotep dipped his spoon into the creamy stew of rice. Hesitantly, he closed his lips around it. His eyes lit up as the vibrant, savory flavor of the mushroom broth and Parmesan coating the fluffy rice spread across his palate. It was perfectly creamy and warmed him from the inside out. Curran chuckled as Nyarlathotep eagerly dove back into the dish, scarfing up the risotto with relish.

     “Looks like you certainly like it,” he laughed.

     “It’s delectable,” Nyarlathotep beamed, “It has truly been a while since I’ve been able to enjoy a meal like this.”

     “Certainly beats dried meats and pickled vegetables, doesn’t it?”

     “It does. I fear I might become spoiled if you keep cooking like this. Curran, where did you learn to cook like this?”

     “My mother taught me. My old man was a poor carpenter, so while he was working, I had to help mom with all of the housework.”

     “Ho? Explains why you were able to repair so much of my estate in just five days. You certainly have had plenty of training under your belt.”

     “I guess. I mean, I’d far rather be back working for the inquisition, but mom always taught me to make the best of a bad situation.”

     “Oh… I understand.”

     Nyarlathotep pushed around the last few bites of risotto with his spoon. Curran was his prisoner, of course he wouldn’t be happy here, yet it still hurt Nyarlathotep to hear it directly from him. Besides, he was the one who said he wanted his relationship with Curran to be one of a master and slave. Why then was he feeling upset? Was he really starting to bond with Curran? He stood up from his chair, walking over to his manservant, who was still eating his lunch.

     “Curran,” Nyarlathotep said, “I have finished my meal. Once you are done, I want you to meet me in my library.”

     “Meet you in front of your library,” Curran responded, his mouth full of risotto, “Got it.”

     “No. Meet me _in_ my library. I want to show you my collection of texts.”

   Curran nearly dropped his spoon. In the five days he had been here, Nyarlathotep had never let Curran set foot in his library. He always thought it was his master’s secret sanctuary. Being invited to enter made him feel like he had warranted Nyarlathotep’s trust.

     “Alright then,” Curran agreed, “I need to wash the dishes, so I’ll probably be there in about five minutes.”

     “I will be waiting,” Nyarlathotep said.

     His coattails fluttered behind him as Nyarlathotep retreated from the dining room and into the foyer, bound for his library. Curran picked up his master’s and his own now empty plate and carried them to the sink. Cold water rushed onto the white plates, rinsing them clean of the risotto remnants. As rice and stock flushed down the drain, Curran grabbed a bar of soap to clean off specks that were too hard to see with the naked eye. Bubbles foamed in the shallow dip of the plates, cleaning the porcelain until they were sparkling. He lifted up the plate, and could almost see his reflection across the opaque glass. His goatee had grown out a bit longer and stubble speckled his chin and cheeks. Maybe Curran could ask Nyarlathotep if he had a razor blade he could use to shave. He set the plates down, allowing them to dry in the sunlight. Once the dishes, pots, and pans were completely clean Curran slid his leather gloves back on and headed to the library.

     He walked down the lower floor’s hall to the foyer. After his days spent here as a captive, Curran began to notice differences in the manor itself. The foyer was lighter, even without the use of sconces, because he had cleared down the moss obscuring the windows. Dust no longer hung heavy in the air and the faded and tattered curtains had been repaired. His renovations were like putting a bandage on a gash; while it didn’t fix all of the manor’s problems, it at least made the house more habitable.

     Curran looked down the hallway to the library. That, plus Nyarlathotep’s locked room were the only places Curran had never seen in the manor. He raised his fist and knocked on the door. Nyarlathotep opened the door wide, stepping aside to allow Curran to enter.

     “Welcome to my archives,” he said, “Feel free to look around.”

     Curran’s jaw dropped when he stepped into the room. The library was giant. Books lined the walls, climbing all the way up to the vaulted ceiling of the room and several comfortable armchairs sat in the center of the room, encircling a round table holding a globe of the known world. This place probably had more books than the public library in his hometown.

     “Well,” Nyarlathotep bragged, “Are you not impressed at my collection?”

     “I’m not much of a reader, but damn. That’s a lot of books,” Curran gaped, “Lathna would be in heaven if she saw this place.”

     “Lathna… That was your younger sister, correct?”

     “Well, she’s not technically my sister. She’s an orphan. She just calls me that cuz I helped rescue her from her destroyed town.”

     “How noble of you. So the girl enjoys reading?”

     “She loves it. Hate to say it, but she’s probably better at reading than I am.”

     Nyarlathotep chuckled, “A grown man who is worse at reading comprehension than a little girl? You are hilarious Curran.”

     “Hey, I never had much time to read,” Curran grumbled, “I’ve read all of the sacred texts for the Ilian Church at least.”

     “You should really try reading for pleasure. It’s something I have enjoyed for the past ten years.”

     Nyarlathotep walked over to his ladder, placing it against the eastern wall of the library.

     “That is why,” Nyarlathotep said, “Today I am going to teach you the joy of literature. Take the afternoon off of work and read with me.”

     “Can’t I just work? I’d much rather perform physical labor,” Curran complained.

     “This is an order from your master. Don’t worry Curran, I will chose a book that is easy to comprehend. It was one of my favorites in my youth.”

     Nyarlathotep pulled out a thin book from the shelf, throwing it down to Curran.

     “Catch,” he shouted.

     Curran scrambled to catch the book, flipping it over to look at the title.

     “Luh Petty Prince?” Curran struggled.

     _“Le Petit Prince,”_ Nyarlathotep corrected, “Don’t worry, the text itself is in our language. It means “The Little Prince.”

     “It definitely sounds like a children’s book.”

     “Children are its target audience, but I feel you could still enjoy it.”

     Curran sighed as Nyarlathotep descended the ladder, holding his own leather bound book in his arms.

     “What do you got there?” Curran wondered, peeking over his master’s shoulder.

     _“The Metamorphosis,”_ Nyarlathotep responded.

     “What’s that about?”

     “It’s about a man slowly transforming into an insect.”

     “Sounds weird… but interesting… Can I read that?”

     Nyarlathotep held the book far away.

     “Not a chance,” he responded, “This book is far too complicated for you to appreciate. Read _Le Petit Prince_ from cover to cover and then we’ll see.”

     “Fine…” Curran grumbled.

     Nyarlathotep sat down in his armchair, opening up the novel to the first page. His eyes scanned across the pages, completely focused on the text within. Curran figured he should join him, lest he make his master angry. He sat down across from him and opened the book to the first page.

_“Once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book, called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing. In the book it said: "Boa constrictors swallow their prey whole, without chewing it. After that they are not able to move, and they sleep through the six months that they need for digestion."_

     Curran looked up from the book, not quite in disgust, but certainly not in pleasure.

     “So this guy drew a snake swallowing an elephant,” Curran rehashed, “But it just looks like a hat. I don’t get it.”

     “You dolt that’s the point,” Nyarlathotep replied, “That is one of the primary themes of the book; the glory of childlike imagination. Just keep reading it Curran. When reading, try to put your mindset into that of a child. Let yourself be swept away by the wonder of the world-building.”

     Curran sighed and looked back down at the book. No matter what he did, he just couldn’t get into it. He gazed up from the book to look at his master, reading across the table from him. That almost seemed more interesting than the book. He was so engrossed in his reading that he didn’t even notice Curran had stopped.

     Now that Curran got a better look at Nyarlathotep, he didn’t look as “beastly” as he thought. Without the gray patch of skin covering half of his face and horns sprouting from his head, Nyarlathotep looked almost human. His lashes fluttered as his eyes darted from page to page, occasionally blinking with each flick of the page. The spectacles sitting at the bridge of his nose gave him an extra human quality, glinting from the sunlight spilling into the library.

     Nyarlathotep’s eyes started to grow heavy. Was he falling asleep? His body grew limp as he let the book slide from his hands onto the floor, his eyes closing in slumber. Curran shook his head.

     “Taking a nap, Lord Nyarlathotep?” he asked.

     Nyarlathotep didn’t respond, but the rise and fall of his chest showed his relaxed breathing mid slumber.

     “A library ain’t the best place for a nap,” he said.

     Curran slid his arms under Nyarlathotep’s body, lifting him up from the armchair. To his surprise, Nyarlathotep was pretty light. Even with the large wings and tail, his body itself was rather slender and frail.

     “Let me get you to your room,” Curran smiled.


	6. Le Grimoire du Nyarlathotep

 

     Curran carried Nyarlathotep’s sleeping form up the stairs to the second floor of the manor. Unconsciously, Nyarlathotep leaned his head against Curran’s chest, nestling into it. The sharp barbs on his horns poked at Curran’s skin, but for some reason he didn’t mind. Maybe it was having the opportunity to see the supposedly “vicious beast” of the estate allowing himself to be vulnerable.

     “You’re just like an asshole cat, Nyarla,” he commented.

     Since he didn’t have the key to what he assumed was Nyarlathotep’s room, Curran carried him into the master bedroom. He pushed open the door, carrying Nyarlathotep to the bed. In spite of Nyarlathotep’s wingspan, there was still plenty of wiggle room for him on the cushiony softness of the king sized mattress. Curran sat down next to the sleeping beast, brushing the silver locks of hair out of his eyes. The gray skin on the right side of his face was rough to the touch, like the hide of a shark, yet the fair skin on his left side was a supple and smooth as a child’s. His hair was surprisingly soft too. While it was weighed down by grease, the silver and black strands of hair felt like a fine silk.

     Even the supposed “monstrous” parts of Nyarlathotep were intriguing to look at. His long, black wings had circular sigils and patterns adorning the scales and the flesh of the wings themselves seemed as thin and light as a piece of fabric. On the bottom of his hands, under the sharp points of his talons, were small pink spots, almost like the toes and paw of a cat. The horns adorning Nyarlathotep’s head, though barbed with spikes, almost resembled a crown, giving him a regal appearance. Unfortunately Nyarlathotep’s tail seemed like it was uncomfortably wedged between the bed and his body. Curran reached out to pull his long tail out from under him, making Nyarlathotep shiver and whimper. Thankfully he didn’t wake up, but Curran would have to keep in mind the sensitivity of his tail.

     Curran stood up from the bed, figuring it was best to let Nyarlathotep rest. He headed back downstairs, stopping in front of the open door to the library. While dust wasn’t an issue in the room perhaps he could do some cleaning in there anyways. He was certain Nyarlathotep would appreciate one less cluttered room in the house. Curran picked up the book that Nyarlathotep had dropped earlier, ascending the ladder to put it back in its rightful spot. He figured he’d leave _Le Petit Prince_ out on the off chance he decided to read it, but did so more to fool his master into thinking he had an interest in literature.

     Curran stepped back out into the foyer to grab a broom and dustpan from the closet. Upon returning, he set the dustpan down and began sweeping the hardwood floors of the library. Dirt, dust, and hair slowly piled up as Curran swept around the large room. Once the pile would become too big to manage, he would push it into the dustpan, dumping it out the window to the backyard.

     Now that Curran was all alone in the Library, it seemed even larger. He was amazed how many texts a single person could amass, but then again, Nyarlathotep was supposedly a God. Gods were infamous for demanding sacrifices, and based on his dragon like wings, this collection could very well be considered a dragon’s hoard. As he swept the floors, his eyes wandered to the collection of books. It was far more than he could ever hope to read in his lifetime, yet he knew so many people, Nyarlathotep included, would gladly spend the rest of their days in here, devouring page after page of each story.

     He set his broom aside and grabbed the ladder. While he still grimaced at his assigned reading, maybe he could skim a few of the other books just to make Nyarlathotep think higher of him. He positioned the ladder on the north side of the room, climbing up the rungs until he reached the top. Since not he wasn’t that familiar with what constituted “good literature,” Curran selected primarily by the title of the book on the spine and the craftsmanship of the leather or paper binding. He ran his fingers over the selection in the top row, feeling the soft, supple leather of the book spines under his touch. Curran stopped at one that particularly caught his eye with its gorgeous embellishments and gems encrusted into the spine. It unfortunately didn’t have a title that Curran could see, but he figured he could give this book a try.

     Curran yanked at the book, but to his surprise, it didn’t budge. Maybe it was just decorative? Then again, that seemed a bit pretentious to put a book in a library just because it looked pretty, and Nyarlathotep seemed to value the text within over the beauty of the cover. He ran his fingers over the gemstones, when suddenly, one of them sunk into the spine after he touched it. Curran heard a click and looked behind him. The globe at the center of the library had split open, revealing a large, floating tome. It emanated a dark aura and the leather binding on the outside pulsed as if it were made of still living flesh. Its pages were stained violet and the book was clasped shut with a lock.

    Perhaps it was the inquisitor in him, but Curran felt he needed to investigate this book. He slid down the ladder, approaching the menacing looking tome. The magic bound within seemed to call out to him. His hand reached out for it involuntarily, eager to uncover the secrets of this text. With just the tap of his finger against the spine of the book, Curran was transported to a world of darkness.

     The air around him was acrid with the smell of poison, and his knees buckled from the pressure forcing him down. There was no sound, no light; Curran couldn’t even see his own hands in front of his face. Thoughts of darkness, of regret ran through his head, playing incessantly as shadows of those he cared about materialized around him.

     The rough image of a young girl came into his view. Her face was blurred with a violet fog and the voice spilling from her mouth sounded like an amalgamation of several, some familiar, some unknown.

     “You are a failure,” she said, “Sacrificing yourself to rescue me? Your altruism is pathetic.”

     “Lathna?” Curran asked.

     This figure before him certainly resembled her. She was, yet she wasn’t; she spoke, she had no mouth for which to speak. The silence was deafening. The presence of nothingness made Curran feel like he was being crushed.

     “What…” he choked, “What are you?”

     Lathna’s form faded into a mass of fog, reforming its body as it spoke.

     “We are nothing. We are many,” it said, “We are the abyss. We have been called by many names, but we are known to thee…”

     The fog gained a corporeal form. It appeared as a massive, black dragon with no eyes and a gaping maw of a mouth. The black wings hanging on its back, the barbed horns sprouting from its head, the huge tail that looked like it could crush bones; Curran had seen them before.

     “… As Nyarlathotep,” the dragon spoke.

     “You…” Curran muttered, “You are Nyarlathotep? Master… is this your true form?”

     “Thou art correct, yet incorrect,” Nyarlathotep responded, “We are that which is unknown. We are not the truth you seek, but we are the absolute truth of this world.”

     “What is this place? Where did the library go?”

     “This place is that which will be known only to the unknown. This realm is the land of my birth, the land of the death of all reason. This land is the abyss.”

     “Lord Nyarlathotep… If this is a joke… It ain’t funny! Let me go back to the library!”

     “Thou bearest my sigil upon thy neck… Thou hast been marked as a sacrifice under my domain.”

     “What? Sacrifice?”

   “Thy body is mine. The body of thy master is mine. All who would venture into the abyss are Nyarlathotep.”

     Curran couldn’t handle it anymore. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear out his innards and hang himself with them. Death. Nothingness. Abyss. Death. Ď̷̢̛̲͕̩͚̳͙̖͚̯̳̃͌́e̶̗̪̳͖̘͐́̊́̃̓͌͘a̶͖̭̫̙̼̻̖̙̍͗͆̊̎ţ̵̳̯̼̭̬͕͌h̷̨̛͔̲̙̦͇͎̄.̵̢̢̥̫͕̤̬̋̏̎̈́̄͂́̈́͆̽͜ͅ ̵̞̦̋̈́͗́̌͋̔͌̅R̴̫̠̖̔͝͝͝ę̷̛͎͍͕̬̜̱̩̳̭̲͖̂̎̽͌̅̄l̸͓̮̬͛͂̍̈́̍̈̋͋̔ȅ̵̳͇̈́̅͗͑̇̋̓̂̄̂͂͝a̶̢̫̦̟̼͋̒͛̄̌̈́͐̌̆̏͌̓́͠s̸̫̣̎̾̆́̐̉͌͝ͅè̴͖̔̅͑͛̂.̴̨͓̬̱̬͔̦̳͎̦̈́̌̑̌͘͘ ̴̡̛̥̩̆̃̀̎̏̽͂͗̌̍́̕̚S̵̛̬̗͚̗̲͓̺̬͚̖̖̬̹̈́́̋̑͆̑̈́̓́͜w̶̯̖̹̱̳̣̖͖͓͓̓̈́̋ȅ̸̗̈́̃̉̿̽͋̋̿̓̇ȩ̷̡̨̛̺̰͓͚̪̜͉̲̱̰̃̒̅͌͜t̷̯̪̳̮̲̥͛̅ ̸̡̢͔̭̻̲̹̪̞͐̓̌́̄͆̌̒͒̑̈́̂͠r̶̢̜̦̈́͜e̸̙̪̗̝͓̼̩̱̺̫̣͚͇̒̿ͅḽ̸̡̡̛͓̦̲̭̬̣̼͇̯́̓͆̏̎̿͠͠ͅë̶̠̩̠̮̜̜͚͕̹͇̩̦̰͕̲́̅̆̓̌̈͝ą̴̛̼̹̹̱̩̺̲̹͍̦̒̍̊̎͂̈́̾̕͝͝s̸̼̓̈̑̚ͅȩ̴̨̨̛̝̹̗̩̃̇̆̈́͗̍̌̅͐.̷̲͇͎̥͇̦͑́ ̷̨̢͇̟̠̟͓̳̪̻̮͕͊͛͒͑̐͋͛͑͋̉̽̌̕͝S̵͖̭̫̩̩͎̭̠̠̝͔̻̭͓̬̿̂̐́̆̔̋̿͆̅ẇ̵̢͙̳̠̪̮̦̰͚̤̲̣͙̹̒͌͒͛͆̑̂͊̕ͅe̸̥̪̦͕̖͉͖̠̖͋̎̈̑̃̊́͋͆̍͜e̶͉̤͚̦̱͚͇͉̞̻̭̫̠̥̅́͒̎̊̍̔͂͆̓͘ṱ̴̰̜͙͓̝͇̫̥̿̐̒̍͗͐̀̏̚̚ͅͅ ̷̳̜͚̗̈́̏d̵̢͇̳͇̮̗̙̳̲̂̋̒͐̔ę̵͇̦͓͈̳͕̯͉̱́̎͌ą̴̨̗̗͙͋͛̑͝ṫ̷̥͌͒͒́͂̀̈̐̏́̕̕h̶̢̡̡͇̙̭̣̱͕̩̞̓͋͐̉̄̄̏̈̊͐͘͝.̶̡͖̫͖͉͕̖͛̊̿̎̏̓̉̒́̅͗͝ ̷͎̣͚̘̄̀͑̑͆̽̕S̴͙̭̒̎͌̾̂̀̕̕͘á̵̦̻͛̈́̾͝ľ̷̹̰̦͔͙̈́̎́̚̚v̶̡̛͙̩͚͖̱͈̼̮̻͈̰̥́̎̀̒̈́͜ͅȃ̸̜͉̈́̆̈́̈́̌̒͜͝t̴̯̘̑̎͆̑̀̔̈́̕̕͜i̷̱͔̳̹̘̩̰͙̗̪̞͈͉͐̈́͂͆o̴̻͇̹̱͎͌͑̀͑̿͑̄̎́̕̚ñ̷͎̻̎̔̉̋̕.̴̨̱̳̟̃̍͂̈́̌̃͐̑̀̐̈́̍̇̚͝ͅͅ ̴͍̗̖̲͚̙̜̪̺̤͈̱̋̑̌ͅF̶͔̈̌̒́̂̅͆͋͊͌͑̀̕͘͝r̵̢̜̗̫͓̲̰̙͇̼̈̐̓͑ȩ̶̡͈͎̜͇̫̄̐̽̾̅̚͘ȇ̶̛̘̯͙͇̘́̂͛̐̾͗̋̂̆͂̅̕ͅd̵̨͓͚͉͇̐͋͝o̶̡̱̠̟̳̫͑m̷̨̢͉͍͓͈̙͍̖͛̄̽̈́͋̍̋̒̍̇̅̈̍.̷͙͖͂̇̓̑͋̿̇́́̈̈́͘̕͘͝ ̵͔͙̫͆́͌̒̓̈́̂͆̌̚̚͝D̶̗̖̘͚̱̻̣̼͓̭̓̾̽̇̌̉̍̍̾̈̿ę̴̥̬̱̠͈̗̪͎̝̼̼̊ǎ̷̛̝͔̬̤̝̭̹̱̼͉͒̀̉̈́͒̆̃͜ͅt̶͉͍̤̱̮̮̼͙͚̹̲̝̝̀͑͛̒̄̈̊̉͜h̴͉͛̈́̿͗̅̓̾͋.̴͍̞̳̈́́̍̒̉̚ ̴̣̺̹̥̺̯̦͔͍͕̞̱̲̏̔͗͛͛̎͒̚͝D̶̻͉̘̖̻̋̒́͐̎́͐̽̇̊͐̈́̾͜͠i̷̹̤͉̥̻̜̠̦̍̈́͑̋͌͌̅̓́̀́̚ȩ̵͇̜̤͓̪̓̆͒̚.̶̨̢̜̼͍͎̉̾͒͌̄̇̾͛̆́͊̚͝ ̵͖̖͆́͑͊̿͒̽́̒͋̀͋͛̚͝L̷͕͖͕͕̥̗̻͎̪̜̭̒͆̊̽̈̈͂̂̈́̊̉̃͠e̷̝̐̚t̷̛̮̙̆͊̔͊̀̉͒̾̇̀͑͝ ̴̢̛͉̥͙͉̣̉̀̑̾̏̐̓̓̽͂͗̂̕m̵̢̪̳̖͔̩̫̗̅̎̑̇͘ͅe̷͖͈̝̫̺̹̖̘͗̓̂͂̌͋̌ͅͅ ̷̩̦͙̞̒̈́̂̈́̕d̸̛̲̙̂͐̃͛̎̑́̆͆͗̀͘͘͝i̵̡̛͇͗̀̄͂̈e̷̢̠͓̙̅̉.̵͔̝͚̦̠͍̟̣̞͎̞̓̏̄̉͌ͅ

     A tendril extended from Nyarlathotep’s body. It wrapped tightly around Curran’s neck, a vice grip squeezing the life out of him.

     “We shall grant thee release,” Nyarlathotep hissed, “We are the abyss. We are nothingness. We are-“

     “CURRAN!”

     A familiar voice called out to him. The grip of the tendril loosened as Nyarlathotep faded into nothingness. He could see his body. He could hear his surroundings. Light returned to the world once more. He had been freed from the grasp of the Abyss.

     His master Nyarlathotep shook Curran’s body forcing him back into consciousness. Curran’s blue eyes gained life once more and he gasped a deep breath as he returned to the real world. Curran’s body was covered in sweat and his skin was cold to the touch. A nightmare? A hallucination? Whatever Curran experienced, he never wanted to endure it again.

     “CURRAN! SPEAK TO ME!” Lord Nyarlathotep ordered.

     “M-master…” he gasped, his voice raspy from screaming.

     “You’re alive. Good.”

     Curran was greeted with a sharp, backhand slap to the cheek. Now that he had fully come to his senses, he saw Nyarlathotep, his master Nyarlathotep, standing over him angrily. His claws had retracted and he bared his sharp fangs.

     “WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?” he scolded.

     “I… I don’t even know what happened,” Curran stumbled, “I just saw that book and…”

     He turned around to see the globe had closed shut, holding the malevolent aura of the book deep inside so it would not escape.

     “How did you even find it?” Nyarlathotep snapped, “Do you have any idea how lucky you are that I got to you in time?”

     “What… What was going on?” Curran asked.

     He looked down and gasped. In his hand was his Church sanctioned dagger. He didn’t even remember taking it out.

     “I woke up to your screams…” Nyarlathotep explained, “When I came in, you had your dagger pointed at your heart, and you were about to plunge it in.”

     “No… no way,” Curran stammered, dropping his dagger.

     Was he really trying to kill himself? Maybe that abyss, that monster he saw; maybe they weren’t hallucinations after all.

     “Thank you for saving me…” Curran said.

     “Thank you for saving me?” Nyarlathotep retorted, “THANK YOU FOR SAVING ME? IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY TO ME?”

     “I… I don’t know what else I can say…”

     “I keep that grimoire sealed away for a reason. Only I can touch it without being transported to the abyss.”

     “Why… what… why is that…”

     Nyarlathotep snarled, his hands clenching into fists.

     “Get out,” he mumbled.

     “Excuse me?” Curran asked.

   “GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY LIBRARY!”

     Nyarlathotep pushed Curran to the door. His red eyes burned with rage and his wings stretched to their full span as if to intimidate him.

     “KNOW YOUR PLACE, SLAVE!” Nyarlathotep hissed, “HOW DARE YOU VIOLATE MY TRUST! GET OUT!”

     Nyarlathotep shoved Curran out of his library, slamming the door behind him. Curran still couldn’t process everything that was going on. He was so confused. Who was Nyarlathotep? What was Nyarlathotep? If his master was the same as that dragon from the Abyss, then why did he save him? Why didn’t he let Curran become a sacrifice? He needed answers.

     As he paced the foyer, trying to solve the confusing puzzle of the grimoire and his master, a glinting light caught Curran’s eye. He bent over to see a small, silver key. Suddenly he remembered that locked room he encountered when he first came to the manor. Perhaps this key would help him solve the mystery of Nyarlathotep and get closure for himself, and his master.


	7. L'Hériter Perdu

     Curran took a deep breath before sliding the key into the lock on the untouched door. Since his arrival, Curran had always wondered what secrets Nyarlathotep hid within his room, but after discovering that cursed grimoire, the premise of finding more potentially cursed items inside almost scared him. He was an inquisitor; uncovering the truth was supposed to be his specialty. Now was not the time to be frightened. Curran needed to gather his courage to find out who or what his master really was.

     The lock clicked open. Curran pressed his palm to the doorknob, sweating in anticipation under his leather gloves, and turned the handle. The door creaked as it opened, its hinges clearly rusted from lack of use. He grabbed a torch from a nearby wall sconce and stepped inside. The room was dark and dusty enough to suffocate. Curran raised his torch, maneuvering around the stuffy room. It was about half the size of the master bedroom and decorated with red silk curtains and floral print across the walls. A vanity with a large mirror sat next to the queen sized bed, littered with half used cosmetics and perfume. He proceeded to the closet, opening it to find an array of beautiful gowns made from the finest quality fabrics. Yet something wasn’t quite right. The closet stunk of death.

     Curran could immediately tell that this wasn’t Nyarlathotep’s room. He said that he took up residence in the son’s bedroom, yet this place was clearly once inhabited by a woman. He felt a bit uncomfortable going through the belongings of a girl, especially those of a girl who had been missing for ten years, but this room was the last clue he had to uncovering the truth. Why did his master go by the name of that beast from the Abyss? Why did he keep so many of the portraits and antiques after the family who lived here disappeared? Why did he refuse to take up residence in the master bedroom? Why was _this_ room the one that was locked?

     The stench from the closet grew nauseating. Curran shut the door, lest he lose his lunch, and decided to investigate the rest of the room first. He began with the vanity, pulling open its drawers to examine its contents. As expected, they were stuffed with typical “girly” belongings: makeup, soaps, lotions, brushes, and the like. The hair clinging to the fibers of the brush was a rich, chocolate brown, far lighter than Nyarlathotep’s jet-black locks. He recalled from the portrait in the foyer that both the mother and daughter of the missing family had brown hair, and since the mother most likely lived in the master bedroom with the lord of the house, this room must have belonged to the daughter, Gretchen.

     His hypothesis was confirmed as he opened another drawer, discovering a series of letters written in the finest cursive upon stationary. He pulled one out and read it to himself.

_“To my dearest Gretchen,_

_Each passing night until our wedding feels like an eternity without you. I count the moments until we are united as one, and I pine for our future of happiness and love together. Every night I thank the goddess for bringing us together, and count my lucky stars that your father granted us his blessing for our sacred matrimony. I’m certain your mother is looking down from above, sending her blessings upon our lives together. Until next we meet, my love._

_Love,_

_Antonio”_

     “Antonio…” Curran said to himself.

     Curran had heard that name before. He recalled it from the greatest political scandal of the past decade. The man who wrote that letter, Antonio, had murdered the lord of this house in cold blood. He nearly got off scot-free until a mysterious source confirmed him as the killer and proved him guilty. Curran was just 16 at the time, but he still remembered the public execution in the town square; the blood gushing from the open wound of the man’s neck as the headman’s ax heaved downward. At the time, he saw it as the glory of the inquisition with their power to bring justice to sinners, but after reading this letter, the memory was now surprisingly eerie.

     This drawer was filled with love letters of this sort. He had never realized that the man who murdered Lord Wolfang was his own daughter’s fiancé. The fact that the writing in his letters was so sincere and earnest made his motive even more haunting. Curran always thought it was simply a political rivalry, but he could tell that Antonio was truly in love with Gretchen. Not even political rivals would go to that extent to win a girl’s heart only to kill her father for power. That seemed far too sadistic and cruel.

     He placed the letters back inside the vanity drawer, now heading to the nightstand by her bed. Hoping to find more fruitful evidence, he opened up the top drawer to the nightstand, finding a small book within. It was a thin, leather bound journal with handwritten text inside. Curran blushed when he saw the header of the first page: _“Dear Diary…”_

     He slammed the book shut. Lathna would kill him for invading another girl’s privacy, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He took a deep breath before opening the diary to the first page.

_“Dear Diary,_

_Today, I became a big sister! My little brother is so cute. He has mother’s beautiful scarlet eyes. Mother told me that she and father decided to name him Heinwald. I would rather he be named Cutie or Squishy. I feel that name would fit him better, but I suppose mother knows best. I can’t wait for him to get bigger, then we can play together!”_

     Gretchen must have been very young when she wrote the first entry. Her writing style was much more childish and her handwriting was sloppier. He skimmed the journal, stopping at one of the later entries.

_“Dear Diary,_

_Today is a rather sad day. We buried mother out in the field, amongst her favorite flowers. I tried to be strong, but Heinwald would not stop crying. This must be especially tough for him. He is only ten years old and has lost his mother. It is difficult enough for me at eighteen. I’m certain the wound over his left eye only adds to his pain. Father is far too cruel to him. Brandishing a knife against your own son… it makes my stomach turn. No matter what he did, nothing constitutes being slashed. I fear for our family. I fear for my future, and his…”_

     It appeared that the mother passed five years before the incident. Other than Lord Wolfgang’s assassination, very little information was revealed to the public about his family’s state. Curran flipped a few of the pages and continued reading.

_“Dear Diary,_

_Today Heinwald went off to study at the Caldia Magic Academy. I couldn’t be more proud of him. At the age of thirteen, he has already been accepted into one of the finest magic institutes on the continent. He told me he wishes to study healing arts. Father was not too happy with his decision, but I believe Heinwald will make an excellent healer. I will miss seeing him around the estate, but he promised to return whenever he can.”_

     Several of the Church’s healers studied at Caldia. He recalled that most aren’t accepted to study there until they are at least fifteen, and that is only for the truly gifted. Heinwald must have been a truly incredible mage if he was accepted so young. From what he recalled, their program lasted anywhere from two to four years depending on the branch of study and how many units one takes at a time. He turned the page, hoping to gain even more information on this family.

_“Dear Diary,_

_Today I met the most interesting man in town. When I was out purchasing some tealeaves, a scoundrel tried to pick my pocket, but this man immediately jumped to my rescue, chasing off the thief. In gratitude, I invited him to the estate to join father and I for dinner. His name is Antonio and he is apparently from a noble house in the southern town of Napoli. Father immediately took to him, especially since I am of marrying age and Antonio is quite wealthy as well. Though he must return to his hometown, he promised to write letters to me. I hope I can see him again soon.”_

_“Dear Diary,_

_Today, Heinwald graduated from Caldia. At the age of fifteen, he is currently the youngest student to graduate, and graduate with Magna Cum Laude for that matter. I was so happy to introduce him to Antonio. He and my brother got along rather well at dinner tonight. After the celebration, Antonio and I announced our engagement. Father and Heinwald were overjoyed. I cannot wait for our wedding day.”_

_“Dear Diary,_

_Father was murdered today. While I hate to admit it, I am oddly pleased that he is gone. He was a greedy, vile, wretched man. His death felt like the goddess was granting me a gift, a token of happiness as a taste of my happy future to come with Antonio. Not even the Inquisition knows who took my father’s life, but in all honestly, I couldn’t care less. In fact, I would gladly shake that man’s hand for freeing Heinwald and I from his abuse.”_

     Before Curran knew it, he had reached the last page of the diary. He swallowed hard. The writing on this page was sloppy, signs of ink splatter and tea stains soiling the parchment.

_“Antonio is dead… They killed him… They killed him and everyone cheered at his death. Why did they have to kill him? He was trying to help Heinwald and I. He was going to give us a happy life. Father deserved to die, not him!_

_My Antonio…_

_My dear, sweet Antonio…_

_I will be joining you soon. Wait for me, my love…”_

     Reality hit Curran like a punch to the gut. He turned his head to the closet, remembering the foul stench of death that stuck to the clothes like glue. Curran set the diary down and walked to the closet, slowly opening the door. He pushed aside the dresses and nearly fell backwards in shock. There was no body, but a telltale noose still hung off the rack, swinging ominously. He wanted to puke. Gretchen had killed herself. He now had an explanation for three of the family member’s disappearances: Charlotte had passed five years prior to the incident, Lord Wolfgang was murdered by Antonio, and Gretchen killed herself in grief. The only loose end was the son. What happened to Heinwald?

     Curran closed the door to the closet and sat down on the bed, trying his hardest to rack his brains over the clues he had gathered. Suddenly, Lord Nyarlathotep’s words rung through his head, tying the whole case together.

_“Ah, so you are 26, a year older than me.”_

     Heinwald disappeared at age fifteen. After a decade, he would be 25 years old today.

_“You will feel the pain of losing your precious sister…”_

     Nyarlathotep said that as if he had experienced it before.

_“…the wound over his left eye only adds to his pain…”_

     While the gray marks on the right side of his face were far more noticeable, Curran did recall seeing a scar, as thin as the blade of a knife, over Lord Nyarlathotep’s left eye.

     The information flooded Curran’s mind. Everything was as clear as day. He now knew what had happened to the missing son. He sprinted out of the room, down the stairs and to the library. Nyarlathotep still had the door locked shut, clearly still enraged at Curran’s actions.

     “Master,” Curran yelled, “Please open the door.”

     “I TOLD YOU TO GO AWAY!” Nyarlathotep shouted from the other side.

     “I… I saw everything… I know the truth now.”

     “What the hell are you talking about you idiot? Leave me alone!”

     “You better open this door and explain. I know what happened to your family, Heinwald!”

     Nyarlathotep went silent. The door to the library slowly inched open and his master peered through the gap.

     “How do you know that name?” he asked, “And why are you calling me that? I told you to address me as Lord Nyarlathotep.”

     “No,” Curran said, “Your real name is Heinwald. You are the late Lord Wolfgang’s son.”

     Nyarlathotep scowled, bearing his fangs defensively.

     “You are mistaken!” he snapped, “That boy is dead! He’s dead and deserves his fate! He was… he was a horrible failure.”

     “Your sister’s death wasn’t your fault!” Curran shouted.

     Nyarlathotep choked up. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes.

     “But it was…” he cried, “Gretchen died because of me… because I told the Inquisition that Antonio killed Father!”

     Nyarlathotep, or rather, Heinwald opened the door to his library.

     “I hope you’re happy, Curran,” he sobbed, “You know the truth now. I was the monster who lead this house to ruin… And I did it before I even looked like this…”


	8. Dans la Taverne

 

     _“Unhand the princess you vile beast!” the knight in shining armor said._

_“You will never defeat me, pathetic knight!” the vicious dragon cackled, “This princess belongs to me now! She will be my bride!”_

_“Noooo!” the princess cried, “I don’t want to marry a dragon!”_

     The orphans leaned forward in anticipation as Alex read the picture book aloud, making different voices for each character. As the other kids laughed and cheered at the story of the book, Lathna cringed. She was worried about her big brother. It had been almost a week since Curran saved her again, taking her place as the servant of that horrible monster.

     She buried her head in her knees and whimpered, “Big brother…”

     Alex noticed Lathna’s depression, dog-earing the picture book and setting it aside.

     “How about we take a break from the story for now,” she suggested, “We can have some milk and cookies and finish it after snacktime.”

     The orphans cheered at the promise of sweets, standing up and running to the mess hall. Alex took this opportunity to approach Lathna. She placed her hand on Lathna’s shoulder, rubbing it tenderly.

     “Lathna, is everything alright?” she asked compassionately.

     “Big brother…” Lathna sobbed.

     Alex sighed. Curran never came back after rescuing Lathna from the monster’s estate. Alex was slightly worried, but she wanted to believe in him.

     “It’s ok Lathna,” she comforted, “Didn’t you just say he was going on a pilgrimage to Alberia? He won’t be gone for long.”

    Lathna sniffled. She couldn’t hide the truth any longer.

     “I’m sorry Alex,” she apologized, “I lied… Big brother… He’s not on a pilgrimage… He’s… he’s that big, scary monster’s prisoner!”

     Alex froze. It was noble that he chose to sacrifice himself in Lathna’s stead, but her blood still boiled with anger. Curran was a good friend of hers, a fellow member of the Church who looked after the orphans. She was furious that he would never see the light of day again under the thumb of that cruel beast.

   “Lathna,” she said, “I’ll go rescue him.”

     “No! You can’t!” Lathna cried, “That monster… that monster put a spell on him… If he leaves the manor without his permission… big brother… big brother will die!”

     This only made Alex even angrier. She couldn’t let it show though. Making sure Lathna was happy was her top priority.

     “I’m sure he’ll figure out a way to escape,” she consoled, “Curran is a crafty guy. He’ll be out of that monster’s lair in no time.”

     “You really think so?” Lathna sniffed.

     “He made it into the Inquisition. He’ll surely make it out of that place without a scratch.”

     The rest of the kids came flooding back into the orphanage’s library, their bellies now full of milk and cookies. They were eager for story time to continue. Alex put on a fake smile and picked up the picture book.

     “Now… where were we?” she said, grasping the kids’ attention.

     Alex struggled to maintain her composure throughout the day. Her sense of justice was strong, and despite being a trained Church Assassin, she felt like she was powerless. As soon as the evening volunteer arrived at the orphanage, Alex left without a word. She needed to get a drink. Maybe that would help to calm the anger brewing in her heart.

     She walked down the cobblestone path from the orphanage, heading to the local tavern. It was as busy as ever on a Friday evening, filled with mercenaries, brigands, and inquisitors alike. But in this place, it didn’t matter whether you were a king or a fool; everyone was equal when intoxicated. Alex pulled out her coin purse and walked up to the bar. A buxom tavern wench, who was cleaning out the flagons, leaned over to greet her. Her voluptuous chest nearly bounced out of her shirt.

     “What can I get for you?” she teased.

     Alex slammed a handful of rupies onto the bar table.

     “Get me your strongest ale,” she commanded, “I want to forget everything.”

     The tavern maiden giggled playfully, “Coming right up dear.”

     As the tavern maiden filled a flagon with rich, golden ale, Alex turned her chair around. She recognized quite a few faces in here, and they with her.

     “Oy Alex!” a rambunctious red-headed girl shouted, “What’re you doin’ here? Gathering information?”

     The warrioress leaned over against Alex, reeking of alcohol.

     “I see you’ve already had plenty to drink, Vanessa,” Alex commented, “I intend to do the same.”

     “Sorry for the wait,” the tavern maiden said, setting down Alex’s flagon of ale, “Here you are miss.”

     Alex lifted the glass to her lips, taking a large swig. The taste was incredibly bitter, but she could already feel her cheeks getting warm from intoxication. At least it was strong like she asked for.

     “Never took you as the kind of gal who would enjoy drinking,” Vanessa commented.

     “Normally I don’t,” Alex remarked, “It’s just days like today where I need a drink or two…”

     “Aw man, did something bad happen to the orphans? Or did you and Elly break up?”

     “No, it’s nothing like that…”

     “Damn, I was hoping I could pick Elly up on the rebound!”

     Alex scowled. Vanessa was a fine mercenary and great sparring partner, but Alex did dislike how she had the hots for her girlfriend. Vanessa slapped her on the back, almost making Alex cough up her drink.

     “I’m kidding about the whole Elly thing,” she assured, “Relax.”

     “No you aren’t…” Alex hissed, swallowing another mouthful of ale.

     “But in all seriousness, what’s got you feeling down?”

     “Well, you know Curran right?”

     “Yeah the buff, blonde dude who just joined the Inquisition right?”

     “Well it’s about him…”

     “Ya missin’ him? I know he helped a lot at the orphanage, but pilgrimages don’t usually take that long do they.”

     “HE ISN’T ON A PILGRIMAGE! HE’S BEING HELD PRISONER!”

     Vanessa went silent.

     “N-no way,” she said.

     “It’s my fault too,” Alex mourned, “I don’t know if I told you, but about a week ago, Lathna went into that old abandoned manor… Turns out, that monster that everyone said was just a wives-tale? He actually exists… Curran is his prisoner now because he took Lathna’s place…”

     Alex slammed her fist against the counter, making some ale spill over the side of her flagon.

     “Damn…” she cursed, “If I had went and provided backup, that fiend would be dead and Curran would be free.”

     “Alex, there’s no need to beat yourself up about that,” Vanessa said, attempting to console her, “Howsabout you and I get together a bunch of other mercs and inquisitors and storm the fuck out of that manor! It’ll be fun as hell and we’ll get to rescue Curran!”

     “Lathna said his hostage situation is a bit more complicated than that. Apparently the monster placed a curse upon Curran that will kill him if he attempts to escape or disobey him. I don’t doubt that if we stormed the place, that fiend would immediately activate it…”

     “Damn, ya got me there.”

     As Alex finished off the rest of her ale, her eyes lit up. Perhaps Vanessa’s idea wasn’t so bad after all.

     “Actually,” she said, “I suppose your suggestion does have some merit.”

     “Huh?” Vanessa responded, “Whadya mean?”

     “I’m saying, we gather a militia: Inquisitors, mercenaries, villagers, anyone who wants to help. I’ll try to do some reconnaissance work on that monster, and once Curran has an opening to escape without being killed by that spell… We attack and take that fiend out for good.”

     “Hell yeah. HELL YEAH! I LOVE IT ALEX!”

     Alex was completely gone. With the courage the ale had given her, she stood up on the counter, whistling to call attention to herself in the middle of the busy pub.

     “HEY ALL YOU SLOGS!” she shouted, “You all want a share of glory? Come join my militia to take out the beast of Lord Wolfgang’s abandoned estate!”

     Multiple heads turned to the petite, but mighty assassin standing proud on the bar’s counter. Bellowing laughter broke out amongst the tavern attendees, but Alex still remained unwavering.

     “A beast you say?” one large man chuckled, “Lady that’s just a fairy tale to dissuade thieves and kids from tresspassin’!”

     “Oh? I happen to know the beast exists, and he’s currently holding a member of the Inquisition captive in his ranks. Curran is trapped by this horrendous monster, but we can help to take it out!”

     An Inquisitor piped up, “Oy yeah, I did think it was a bit weird that he’d go on pilgrimage right after being inducted. He never struck me as the lazy type like that.”

     “Bah you Inquisitors can go save ‘im then,” a thief grumbled, “I see nothin’ in it for sellswords, unless you got some extra cash in those pockets of yours little lady.”

     “Heh,” Alex chuckled, “I may not have much, but think about that estate! The members of Lord Wolfgang’s family have been missing for a decade. In the Church’s eyes, that means they are long dead with no will and no heirs. It’s practically free treasures and antiques, sitting there for the taking!”

     Several of the shadier looking customers suddenly became intrigued. Lord Wolfgang was an infamously wealthy noble. Certainly he had piles of rupies and treasures in his manor, just collecting dust.

     “Well I’m with you lassie!” a treasure hunter shouted.

     “Me too,” a shifty Inquisitor added, “I want to save Curran, but you really had me at ‘free treasure’!”

     “When do we go and loot the place?” a mercenary asked.

     “Patience gentlemen,” Alex announced, “We must wait for the proper time for a surprise attack. Once Curran is free, we strike. Until then, we wait and prepare. That monster will wish he was never born!”

     The tavern crowd erupted in shouts of agreement. Alex grinned shrewdly at the army she had amassed.

     “Tavern maiden!” she shouted, “Another ale! Tonight we drink! Tomorrow, we scout, and then, WE FIGHT!”


	9. Les Squelettes dans la Placard

     Curran stretched himself out across the bed of the master bedroom. Perhaps confronting his master like that wasn’t the best idea. The situation could have gone better, but it also could have gone a lot worse. At least all he did was cry and slam the door in Curran’s face; someone as powerful as his master could have easily killed him on the spot for prying into his personal life.

     Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Curran heaved himself up from the bed and answered it. At the door was none other than his master. He didn’t look angry at him, but he clearly was not in a good mood either. If anything, he looked melancholic, a decade of guilt assaulting him once more at full force.

     “Curran,” he said, “I… I wanted to…”

     Curran bowed his head humbly, “I’m incredibly sorry Lord Nyarlathotep! I didn’t intend to bring up bad memories.”

     His master blushed, looking away embarrassedly.

     “Honestly, there’s no need to call me that anymore,” he sighed, “You know my real name, you might as well call me by it.”

     “Ok then,” Curran restated, “I’m sorry, Lord Heinwald.”

     “Just Heinwald is fine…”

     There was a bout of awkward silence between the two, both too ashamed and embarrassed to break it. Curran lifted his head from his bow, getting a closer look at Heinwald. Now that he was looking more carefully, he did see quite a few similarities between his master and the child in the portrait. He even bore the same melancholic expression from the painting.

     “Curran,” Heinwald said, finally breaking the painful silence, “I… I wanted to apologize as well. I should not have slammed that door in your face.”

     Curran was shocked, but he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled modestly.

     “Eh, you had a reasonable reaction,” Curran admitted, “That room was clearly important to you. I shouldn’t have meddled with it.”

     “It’s fine. I was expecting you to find out about Gretchen eventually…” Heinwald sighed, “But that’s not why I came up here. I wanted to clear the air. You… you found out that Gretchen killed herself after my father’s passing, but there’s more to the story than that…”

     “Huh? What do you mean by that?”

     “I’ll tell you about my childhood… I’ll tell you everything. My pursuit of magic, the deaths in my family, how I ended up looking like this…”

     “Why are you so willing to tell me those things? You seemed so upset earlier.”

     “I feel like you’re ready to know. Besides, if I don’t tell you, you’ll simply try to figure it out on your own and may stumble upon misunderstandings and untruths… But before I do so, may I ask you a favor?”

     “Sure.”

     “May we discuss this in the library? I… I do not particularly enjoy being near my father’s room…”

     Curran’s eyes darted to the scar over Heinwald’s left eye, recalling Gretchen’s journal entry.

     “Oh, of course,” Curran answered, “Wherever you’re most comfortable.”

     “Then follow me,” Heinwald instructed.

     Curran followed Heinwald down the stairs, back to the familiar library. He couldn’t help but stare at the “monstrous” aspects of Heinwald as they descended; from his wings, to his tail, even the silver streaks of hair sprouting from his scalp with his horns. Heinwald opened the door to the familiar library, showing Curran inside. Curran made himself comfortable, sitting down on one of the soft armchairs. Heinwald sat across from him, rubbing his chin in thought.

     “Now, where shall I begin,” Heinwald started, “Perhaps my childhood… My family was incredibly wealthy. I had everything a young boy could ask for: servants to attend my every beck and call, delicious food for every meal, any toy or book I could ever ask for…”

     “No need to brag,” Curran mumbled.

     “I assure you Curran, if I could have traded places with you I would have. I would have gladly sacrificed my wealth and status to live as a peasant with a father who actually cared about me.”

     Curran went silent.

     “Now, as I was saying,” Heinwald resumed, “My mother was a kindhearted woman and my sister was my greatest friend for most of my life. My father however… he was a horrible man. He was a greedy, ghastly tyrant with no regard for life other than his own. He willingly let our serfs starve so he could hoard our wealth. I recall once my sister attempted to give a loaf of bread from our pantry to a starving young kid… The next day that kid was found murdered and I spotted bruises across my sister’s face and chest.”

     “Your father beat her?” Curran asked.

     “My sister, my mother, our servants, me… Anyone who was unfortunate enough to garner his anger… But he was a wealthy lord. He was practically untouchable…”

     “Heinwald… if it’s not too much to ask… how did you get that scar? That one over your left eye?”

     Heinwald instinctively touched the faded gash over his eye, sighing as the memory returned to him.

     “I feel a bit more context is needed to explain it,” Heinwald explained, “In my youth, I was homeschooled by tutors who would come to the manor, teaching me basic arithmetic, politics, science… But the one who truly taught me the wonder of literature… That was my mother…”

***

     “Et le petit prince a dit à moi…” Charlotte read aloud in a silly voice.

     “Dessine-moi un mouton!” Heinwald cheered.

     Charlotte patted her son on his head, kissing his forehead.

   “Très bien, Heinwald,” she smiled.

     “Merci, Mama!” Heinwald replied.

***

     “My mother came from a village to the west,” Heinwald continued, “Her marriage with my father was purely political, yet she still deeply cared for my sister and I. She taught us her language, culture, beliefs… She was a wonderful woman. Unfortunately, she was not in my life for long… One day, father was busy with work and Gretchen was out with friends, so she took me to the farmer’s market to spend some quality time together…”

***

     Heinwald smiled in joy at the sight of the farmer’s market. It was filled to the brim with people peddling their wares and making conversation. His senses were overwhelmed with the delectable smells and fantastic sights. It sparked his child-like curiosity as he and his mother walked down the aisles of grocery stands.

     “Would you care for an apple miss?” a peddler asked, “They’re fresh, juicy, and sweet! Only 10 rupies!”

     “Delicious, fresh meat!” another merchant yelled, “Get the finest cuts of beef for a reasonable price!”

     “Piping hot bread and pastries!” the baker shouted from his stand, “Our croissants are flakey and delicious! Kids love them!”

     Heinwald tugged on his mother’s sleeve. He had always loved baked goods, and the croissants from the baker’s stand looked absolutely delicious.

     “Mother,” he asked, “May I have one?”

     “Of course, Heinwald,” she chuckled, “Could you try asking for one in my language?”

     “Puis-j’acheter un croissant, s’il-vous-plaît?”

     “Oui, tu peux.”

     Charlotte guided Heinwald up to the baker’s stand. Heinwald’s eyes lit up at the gorgeous pastries on display.

     “Tell the nice man what you want, Heinwald,” Charlotte instructed kindly.

     “Umm, may I have one croissant, please?” he asked nervously.

     The baker chuckled, “Of course! What kind do you want? We have plain, chocolate, blueberry, and custard.”

     “Custard please!” Heinwald beamed.

     Charlotte handed the baker a handful of rupies in exchange for the warm pastry. Heinwald gripped the warm, buttery croissant in his hands, taking a large bite from the crescent shaped pastry. The flakey layers melted in his mouth and sweet vanilla custard oozed out from the inside.

     “Mother, it’s delicious!” Heinwald beamed, “Would you like a bite of it?”

     Charlote smiled, “That is very kind of you to offer, but no thank you. I want you to enjoy it.”

     Heinwald happily took another bite of his croissant as he and his mother proceeded through the market. Oddly enough, a crowd was beginning to form near the town square, making Charlotte grab her son’s hand as not to lose him.

   “Mother,” he asked, “What is going on? Why are there so many people here?”

     “I don’t know,” she replied, “How about we find out?

     She peered over the large crowd, seeing a man in long robes, a pointed hat, and glasses surrounded by bodyguards from the holy Church. Charlotte bent down, lifting Heinwald up onto her shoulders so he too could see what was happening.

     “Hear ye, hear ye!” the robed man announced, “On behalf of the Caldia Magic Academy, I am grateful that so many young hopefuls have decided to come here, to see if they too can practice magical arts. As Headmaster, I believe that talent can come from the humblest of sources, and for this, I have devised a campaign: We venture to small towns throughout Grastaea to test aspiring youths for magic potential. Behold!”

     The man unveiled what looked like a small pool of water with a glass ball sitting idle in the center.

     “With this mana font, we at the academy can discover not only the type of magic one is best inclined to, but also their inherent potential,” the Headmaster explained, “At Caldia, we have five schools of magic: Flame, Wind, Water, Light, and Dark. Within each school students can learn to use magic for daily needs, research, battle, or even healing. A mage’s natural inclination is displayed by the color the mana in the font turns, and their potential, by how high the glass ball rises in the air. For example…”

     The Headmaster placed his hands around the font, concentrating hard on making the ball levitate. The mana turned a vibrant, glowing gold and the ball floated about a meter into the air. The crowd erupted with “oohs” and “ahhs” as the ball descended back to its original position.

     “I am a proud mage of Light,” the Headmaster bragged, “As you could see by the beautiful gold of my mana. Now, who would like to test their potential?”

     “Mother!” Heinwald beamed, “May I try?”

     “If you want, Heinwald.” Charlotte said, setting him back down on the ground, “But if you want to, we’ll have to wait in line.”

     Heinwald eagerly pulled at his mother’s dress, urging her to follow him to the forming line of children and young adults.

     “Then let’s go, mother!” he grunted.

     Heinwald and Charlotte entered the long queue of people. As the line moved forward, Heinwald watched each hopeful attempt. Unfortunately for some, there was no potential in the slightest. The mana remained clear and the ball didn’t budge a centimeter. But for others it was incredible: vibrant blossoms of green mana for Wind, passionate bursts of red for Flame, cool, soothing gushes of blue for Water, and of course the brilliant shine of Light, as ordinary people discovered that they were mages. The ball didn’t float anywhere near as high for them as the Headmaster, but seeing their elated faces at the levitating ball and burst of colored mana was enough to make Heinwald hungry to try for himself.

     Before he realized it, Heinwald was at the front of the line. His mother patted him on the back, encouraging him before he stepped up to the podium. The Headmaster grinned at him from behind his spectacles.

     “It appears we match, boy,” he chuckled, lifting up his glasses, “Now tell me, what if your name?”

     “H-Heinwald!” Heinwald stuttered.

     “Good boy. Now don’t be nervous. Place your hands at the sides of the font and focus as hard as you can on making the ball float.”

     Charlotte clasped her hands to her chest, praying for the best with her son. Heinwald squinted his eyes shut as he placed his hands at the sides of the mana font. What if it didn’t change color? What if the ball didn’t float? Even if he didn’t become a mage, he was assured a life as a noble, but he still really wanted to see what he could do. As he began to focus, gasps broke out from the crowd.

     “I… I’ve never seen anything like this before!” the Headmaster said, astonished.

     Heinwald slowly opened his eyes. For most people, their ball floated up a centimeter or two from the font, the mana’s color glowing red, blue, green, or gold; but the mana pooling in his was a bright, glowing violet. His jaw dropped. Only adding to his amazement, the ball was floating above his head. It seemed to float just as high, if not higher, than the Headmaster’s.

     “This is incredible…” the Headmaster gaped, “The first Dark Mage we’ve seen all day… and one with this much potential…”

     He turned to Charlotte, who didn’t know if she should be proud or nervous.

     “How old is he?” he asked.

     “He just turned ten,” Charlotte replied, “Is something wrong?”

     “No madam… Your son has an incredible gift.”

     The headmaster squatted down to make eye contact with Heinwald. He beamed under his thick, gray beard.

     “Heinwald,” he said, “We would be honored to have you study at Caldia.”

     Heinwald’s eyes lit up, “Really?”

     “Yes boy. With your natural talent, you will make a truly incredible mage. Unfortunately, you are a bit young to begin your studies. Normally fifteen is our minimum age requirement, but with your ability, I feel you would be ready to start in three years. Keep up your studies Heinwald, and when you turn thirteen, write to us. Tell them you have been personally invited to study by Headmaster Walt.”

     Heinwald couldn’t contain his excitement. He jumped up and down with joy as he shook the Headmaster’s hand.

     “Thank you!” he cheered, “Thank you so much Headmaster! I will keep studying! I’ll work hard so I can go to Caldia!”

***

     “For the rest of the day, I could not stop talking about how excited I was. To be recognized for my potential and see the pride on my mother’s face. It is something I won’t easily forget… Little did I know that was one of the last times I would see her smiling… We returned to the manor later for supper…”

***

     “Did you and mother have fun at the farmer’s market, Heinwald?” Gretchen asked, cutting into her filet of beef.

     “It was amazing Gretchen!” Heinwald smiled, “I’m going to be a mage! The Headmaster of Caldia wanted me to apply when I turn thirteen! I’m going to help people with my magic!”

     Lord Wolfgang slammed his goblet of wine against the table, sending a tremor from his spot at the head all the way to Heinwald at the tail end.

     “A mage?” he grumbled, “What is the meaning of this, Heinwald! There’s no way you can be a mage!”

     “But- but the Headmaster of Caldia said that I have amazing potential,” Heinwald whimpered, “I even made the mana glow and the ball levitate!”

     “Lord Wolfgang, Heinwald is telling the truth,” Charlotte said, “I witnessed it for myself. He has…”

     “SILENCE WOMAN!” he snapped, “Heinwald, get the idea of studying that witchcraft out of your mind. They were clearly trying to scam us out of tuition money…”

     “But… but father!” Heinwald sniffled, “He said…”

     “He was lying to you, Heinwald!” Wolfgang yelled, “Mages are just a bunch of deceptive freaks who lie and cheat their way through life. There’s nothing glamorous about becoming one.”

     “But... the mana font…”

     “IF YOU THINK THAT BLASPHEMOUS MAGIC IS REAL, PERFORM A SPELL RIGHT NOW!”

     Heinwald froze, “I… I don’t know how…”

     “Some mage you are then... Give up that fantasy boy. You’ll never study witchcraft so long as you live in my house…”

     Tears welled up in Heinwald’s eyes. Gretchen leaned over to comfort her little brother, patting him on the back and wiping his tears.

     “Father,” she said, “Don’t you think that was a bit…”

     “AND YOU!” he interrupted, “You’re getting close to marrying age, but I have never seen you with a boyfriend. Are you a queer or something?”

     “No, father,” Gretchen said, “I am only eighteen. I promise I will find a man soon.”

     “He better be a rich one too,” Wolfgang growled, “There’s no way I’m handing my estate down to some peasant boy. By the Goddess what disappointments my children are… my daughter can’t find a man and my son wants to be a witch…”

     Wolfgang swallowed the rest of his wine, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and standing up from the table.

     “I am excusing myself,” he announced, “Charlotte! To my room! You needn’t eat any more. I don’t want you becoming a fat, ugly bitch.”

     Charlotte frowned as she pushed her tray forward. She was permitted to only eat poached vegetables by Lord Wolfgang. If she ever had so much as a bite of meat or bread, Gretchen would notice bruises appearing on her mother’s fair skin. Once their parents had left, Gretchen turned to her brother. He was still crying and snot now dripped from his nose.

     “Oh Heinwald,” Gretchen comforted, wiping his nose with a napkin, “It’s ok, I think it’s amazing that you want to be a mage!”

     “Are… are they really bad people?” Heinwald cried, “Mages… did that Headmaster really try to trick me?”

     “You know how father is. He’s stingy and paranoid. Besides, he’s probably just jealous that you got a compliment from the Headmaster of Caldia.”

     “You think so?”

     “Certainly. If you want, I can try to help you with your application. I’ll work my hardest to try to convince father to let you study at Caldia.”

     “Thank you Gretchen… You’re the best sister ever!”

     Gretchen smiled as she pulled Heinwald into a hug. Life was rough for her, her mother, and her brother, but if they stuck together, they would be able to make their own happiness.

     “Gretchen…” Heinwald asked, “What was that word father called you? Queer? Doesn’t that just mean weird?”

     “No Heinwald,” she sighed, “He was using that word to insult girls who love girls or boys who love boys.”

     “Oh. Do you love girls, Gretchen?”

     “I don’t, but I still think its wrong how people like father are so quick to discriminate.”

     “So if I married a man, it would make father upset at me.”

     “Do you like boys, Heinwald?”

     “I don’t know. I like you and mother, but I haven’t met a boy or a girl that I would want to marry.”

     “Well, you have plenty of time before you have to worry about that Heinwald…”

     Heinwald looked down at his half eaten plate of food, pushing it away before getting up from the table.

    “I’m not really that hungry any more,” he said dejectedly, “I think I’m going to grab a book and go to bed…”

     “Ok Heinwald,” Gretchen replied, “I’ll see you in the morning…”

     Heinwald left the dining room, heading to his sanctuary of the library. Charlotte had stocked all of his favorite books on the bottom shelf so he could easily reach them, reading them whenever he wanted.

     “I want something happy,” Heinwald said to himself, scanning the collection of novels.

     He pulled out one of the books and grinned. This book was apparently one of his mother’s favorites in her childhood. She had translated most of the books she brought from her hometown, but this one remained in its native language. Luckily for Heinwald, he felt proficient enough to be able to understand it.

     _“Cendrillon,”_ he read the title aloud, “I’ll read this tonight.”

     He took the book from the library, heading upstairs to his room, As he proceeded down the hallway, he heard his father’s loud voice, booming from the master bedroom. Heinwald knew he should have just left him be; to go into his room and read until he fell asleep, but his heart told him otherwise. He crept up to the door of his father and mother’s room, peaking through the small crack in the doorway. His parents were standing in the middle of the room, having a clearly rough argument.

     “I don’t see what’s so wrong about having Heinwald study magic!” Charlotte yelled, “He’s a kind boy. I’m sure he won’t use it for evil.”

     “He’s weak Charlotte!” Wolfgang snapped, “He’ll get taken advantage of. First they want our money for tuition, then they trick him into draining us dry!”

     “Why is it always about money to you! We have more than we know what to do with! Why can’t we let our son follow his dreams?”

   Wolfgang slapped Charlotte across the face, making her cry out in pain.

     “He’s MY heir,” Wolfgang growled, “I get to decide what he does with his future! He’ll be happiest living as a nobleman.”

     “You say that like you’ve spent time with him!” Charlotte retorted, “He rarely gets to spend time with you, and when you do see him you’re berating him! He’s just a child Wolfgang! Please go easier on him!”

     Wolfgang raised his fist, punching Charlotte’s eye. A bruise was already beginning to form from the impact.

     “KNOW YOUR PLACE!” he commanded, “THIS IS MY HOUSE! SO LONG AS I DRAW BREATH, OUR BRATS WILL LISTEN TO ME!”

     Charlotte couldn’t take it anymore. She was tired of submitting to this horrible man. She raised her knee, kicking Wolfgang sharply in the groin. As he tumbled over in pain, she rushed for the door, but tripped as he grabbed the hem of her gown. Wolgang’s face was bright red in anger and pain, his fist clutching tightly at the fabric of her dress.

     “You dare attack me?” he hissed, “YOU FUCKING CUNT!”

     Charlotte struggled to get away, but she was overpowered by Wolfgang’s sheer size. He climbed on top of her, placing his hands at her tender neck. Heinwald wanted to look away; he wanted to run for help, but he felt like he was frozen in place. All he could do was watch as his father squeezed the life out of his mother’s throat.

     “H-ein…wald… Gre…tchen…” she choked.

     Heinwald heard a sharp snap. Charlotte’s body fell limp and lifeless under Wolfgang’s grasp. Heinwald’s body collapsed on itself, his legs no longer having the strength to support his weight. His eyes clouded over in shock and color drained from his face. A scream of horror poured from his mouth as he made eye contact with his father through the crack of the doorway.

     “YOU!” Wolfgang growled.

     Heinwald tried to stand up and run away, but his body would not listen to him. He was still in shock that his mother was lying dead on the floor of her bedroom. Wolfgang grabbed one of the decorative daggers from its display case in the master bedroom, storming towards the door. Heinwald attempted to crawl away, his legs still like gelatin underneath him. The door swung wide open. Lord Wolfgang’s form towered over him, casting a shadow over his small body.

     “What did you see?” Wolfgang threatened, gripping the knife tighter.

     “NOTHING!” Heinwald whimpered, “I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING FATHER!”

     “YOU LIAR!”

     Heinwald shrieked in pain as Wolfgang lunged forward, slashing his dagger at his face. He covered his left eye, now bleeding profusely from the gash his father had given him.

     “I’M SORRY FATHER!” Heinwald cried, “I WON’T TELL ANYONE! I PROMISE!”

     “Your mother passed in her sleep,” Wolfgang barked, “That is what happened. If you tell anyone what really happened, you will wish I had plunged that dagger into your skull.”

     “I understand father…” Heinwald sobbed, “Please forgive me…”

***

     Heinwald toppled out of his chair, curled up in a fetal position. He hyperventilated and his skin went pale.

     “No…” he choked out, almost instinctively, “She died in her sleep…. I’m just a liar… Father didn’t kill mother… I’m a worthless, foolish weakling… I’m sorry father… I’m sorry…”

     Curran was shocked. Heinwald was breaking down. He hadn’t even mentioned his sister’s suicide and Heinwald had already spiraled into a fit of anxiety. Curran stood up from his chair, approaching his master. Tears poured from his eyes as he panted erratically from reliving one of the darkest moments of his childhood. Curran knelt beside him, wrapping him in a tight hug and stroking his hair.

     “It’s ok Heinwald,” Curran comforted, “If it’s too painful, you don’t need to tell me any more…”

     “NO!” Heinwald objected, “You need to know the truth. You need to know… You need to know why I deserved to be punished… why I deserved to be cursed to look like this!”


	10. L'Appelle du Vide

     Curran ran his fingers through Heinwald’s hair, intertwining betwixt the silver and black strands. Heinwald was shaking, convulsing in fear and anxiety as he vividly recalled his childhood trauma. Curran’s shoulder grew wet from the salt tears that flowed incessantly from Heinwald’s eyes. He held him tight in his arms, hoping to provide Heinwald with at least the slightest bit of comfort. Curran couldn’t imagine enduring so much abuse at such a young age, and Heinwald wasn’t even done with his story. He knew one thing for sure though: Heinwald did nothing to deserve his abuse and punishment.

     “You’re so brave, Heinwald,” Curran comforted, “I know it’s hard talking about the past, but you don’t need to be afraid. It’s ok.”

     “I’m a coward,” Heinwald sobbed, gripping onto the fabric of Curran’s shirt, “I’m a coward and a traitor… I deserved to be beaten... I deserved to be cursed…”

     “No one deserves to experience that pain. Especially not a kid…”

     “Maybe I should have just died… If I were dead then maybe mother wouldn’t have… Gretchen wouldn’t have…”

     Curran pulled Heinwald in closer, tighter. Heinwald could practically feel Curran’s heartbeat. His breathing eased as Curran stroked his back, gently comforting him. He could feel his anxiety slowly fading away, his shivers dulling and his hyperventilating transitioning into calmer, deep breaths. Heinwald didn’t want Curran to let go. He had longed for this tenderness and comfort since his mother’s and sister’s passing. For a brief moment, it almost felt like they were still alive, assuring him that he was not to blame and everything would be ok.

     “I can understand why you said your father was a horrible man…” Curran sighed, “He really hurt you, didn’t he… But he can’t hurt you anymore.”

     “He said I was weak…” Heinwald sniffed, “Worthless… a disgrace to the family…”

     “The words of such a despicable man mean nothing. He’s gone, Heinwald. I know scars of abuse don’t heal easily, but if I can do anything to ease the pain, I’ll do it.”

     “Curran… you’re too kind to a monster like me…”

     “You aren’t a monster, Heinwald. Your father was the real monster. It doesn’t matter how you look. I don’t care about your wings, your tail, your horns. That doesn’t make you a monster. The only thing that does make someone a monster is having an ugly heart.”

     Heinwald smiled, resting his chin on Curran’s shoulder.

   “That was surprisingly profound,” Heinwald commented, “I guess you really are capable of saying something both kind and intelligent.”

     Curran blushed, “Well you know what they say: ‘beauty is only skinned sheep’.”

     Heinwald chuckled, his smile only growing brighter.

     “And there you go saying something dumb again,” he laughed, “The phrase is ‘beauty is only skin deep,’ Curran.”

     “Damn it…” Curran grumbled, “Idioms are hard…”

     Heinwald gazed into Curran’s deep blue eyes. While he may mix up his idiomatic expressions, his sincerity was undeniable. For the first time in ten years, Heinwald felt a sense of solace, regaining that which he lost with the deaths of his mother and sister. He had someone who believed in him again, someone who could look past his hideous appearance to see a kind soul buried within him. It had been so long since he had experienced this kindness, he didn’t want it to end, fearing it would disappear, as fleeting as it came. Heinwald kept his arms wrapped tight around Curran’s shoulders, savoring the warmth of a friend’s presence.

     “Curran,” he asked, “I think I can tell you the rest of my story now, but do you mind staying like this?”

     “Of course,” Curran assured, “If that will make things easier for you, I’ll gladly do it.”

     “Now… where was I? After mother’s funeral, I mostly kept to myself. I spent days upon end in the library, reading novels on the practice of magic and the theories behind magecraft. It was truly fascinating. I would read anything from fairy tales to books of the occult, and while the dark arts sparked my interest, I vowed to study only the theory behind them, never putting it into practice. I suppose it was my father’s abuse that made me want to pursue healing arts. If I became a healer, I could ease my and my sister’s physical pain. Anyway, when I turned thirteen, my sister helped me apply to Caldia in secret…”

***

     Heinwald heard a knock on the door to his room. He set his tome aside, sitting upright in his bed.

     “Come in,” he instructed, “The door is unlocked.”

     The door swung open to reveal Gretchen, holding a letter in her hand. She looked nervous, but also extremely excited.

     “Heinwald,” she said, “A letter came in from Caldia.”

     Heinwald’s eyes lit up. He darted out of his bed to his sister’s side, gladly accepting the letter. It bore the signature, gold wax seal of the Caldia magic academy, its emblem of the Yggdrasil Tree embossed into the stamp. Heinwald eagerly tore open the envelope, unfolding the letter inside.

     “What does it say?” Gretchen asked.

     Heinwald glued his eyes to the letter and read it aloud for his sister to hear.

_“Heinwald,_

_On behalf of Caldia Magic Academy, I would like to thank you for submitting an application of interest to our fine school. As you know, the process is quite competitive, but based on your application, letters of recommendation, and magic potential, we at Caldia wish to offer you a full scholarship to study at our academy. Congratulations on your acceptance and we look forward to seeing you in the fall._

_Sincerely,_

_Mattias – Head of Admissions”_

     Gretchen threw her arms around her brother, hugging him tightly to congratulate him. Heinwald beamed from ear to ear, gripping the letter proudly in his hand.

     “You did it!” Gretchen cheered, “I’m so proud of you Heinwald!”

     “I couldn’t have done it without your help, Gretchen,” Heinwald replied, “A full scholarship… I can’t believe it! Father will certainly be delighted that he doesn’t have to pay any tuition.”

     “Perhaps we should tell him the good news then. I hope he’ll let you attend, Heinwald. You deserve it.”

***

     “Of course, father wasn’t too happy that we had gone behind his back to submit my application,” Heinwald continued, “But he couldn’t betray his miserly nature. He conceded to let me attend Caldia so long as he didn’t have to pay them a single rupie. Come autumn, I moved out of the manor to live in the dorms at Caldia for the next two years of my life. I enrolled in the Healing Arts division of the Department of Dark Magic, spending my time studying and pushing the bounds of healing magic, discovering that it has great potential for combat capabilities. I wrote my thesis on the healing art of life drain and how its versatility allows for a balanced offense and defense in combat.

     In my free time, I joined the debate team, discovering a new passion for detective work and finding out the truth. It was merely a hobby to give me a break between my studies, but it eventually led to a new dream. If I hadn’t been cursed, I would have loved to pursue detective work, using my knowledge of dark arts to apprehend those who would use it for evil while healing the innocent with my magic.”

     “We could have used guys like you in the Inquisition,” Curran said, “Anyone who yearns for the truth and would uphold its values is welcome.”

     “I once thought that it was necessary to expose the truth, no matter the repercussions. Unfortunately I learned the hard way that ignorance is bliss… I fear I could never join the Inquisition. You view all sins as crimes worthy of punishment, but an eye for an eye and the world goes blind. After what happened ten years ago, I saw that some sins outweigh others, and what is seen as a crime to one can be viewed as justice to another…”

***

     “It is my honor as Headmaster of Caldia,” Headmaster Walt spoke, gazing out from over the pedestal to the crowd of students, “To congratulate the graduating class. Take pride in your accomplishments and cherish that which you have learned at Caldia. As of now, you are all fully fledged mages!”

     The crowd of students cheered, throwing their caps in the air in celebration. Heinwald waded through the mass of dispersing students, searching for his sister. He spotted her waving proudly amongst the audience, their father and another young man in tow. Heinwald had never seen this other person before. His brown hair was slicked back neatly and his amber eyes shone proudly against his olive skin. Heinwald approached the group, his sister hugging him and straightening the purple sash over his neck. It indicated him graduating with honors from the Department of Dark Magic.

     “Congratulations!” Gretchen beamed, “I couldn’t be more proud of you!”

     “Thank you,” he responded.

     As Heinwald expected, his father remained silent, but the man next to his sister placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling with pride.

     “Your sister has told me all about you,” he said, “I can see why she’s so proud of you.”

     Gretchen pulled out of her hug with Heinwald to kiss the man on the lips.

     “Heinwald,” she introduced, “I’d like you to meet Antonio. We started dating about a year ago.”

     Heinwald extended his hand cordially. Antonio gripped it, shaking it firmly.

     “Pleased to meet you,” Heinwald said.

    “The pleasure is all mine,” Antonio replied, “I have wanted to meet you for a while Heinwald. Gretchen is always gushing about her precious little brother.”

     Gretchen blushed, cupping her cheeks bashfully, “Toni! Don’t tell him that! It’s embarrassing.”

     “No need to be embarrassed, my sweet,” Antonio smiled, “I’ve always wanted a younger brother, so I can understand your doting.”

     “Enough of this lovey crap,” Lord Wolfgang hissed, “I’m starving. Let’s get back to the manor. I need food.”

    “Heinwald,” Antonio asked, “It’s your special day. How about you choose our dinner for tonight? What would you like?”

     “Hmm,” he pondered, “Can we have venison? I haven’t had that in a while.”

     “Of course,” Gretchen replied, “Let’s head back then.”

***

     “When we returned home that night,” Heinwald continued, “The servants cooked up a great feast. At the end of the evening, Gretchen and Antonio announced that they were getting married. I was overjoyed that Gretchen had found someone so kind to spend the rest of her life with. Father, however, was happier that she had found someone rich… Antonio began living in our manor in the months before his and my sisters wedding. He was truly like the older brother I never had. I couldn’t wait for him to join the family… But then… _that_ happened…”

     “Your father’s murder?” Curran asked.

     “Yes… Antonio was the one who told my sister and me of his passing. Father was lying dead in the master bedroom, sprawled out across his bed. A teacup was shattered across the floor, and while he bore no signs of external injury, blood spilt from his mouth. I was easily able to discern that he was poisoned.”

     “I remember my old man reading about that in the papers. The Inquisition thought that a servant did it since it happened right after he took his afternoon tea…”

     “I’m certain you’ve heard the phrase ‘curiosity killed the cat,’ right Curran?”

     “I seem to remember it differently, but yeah.”

     “Something seemed off about the case to me, so I took investigation into my own hands. Brewing antidotes was a major part of my curriculum at Caldia, so of course, I was well versed in poisons and how to cure them. I took a piece of glass from the shattered teacup at the crime scene and swabbed the blood from around my father’s mouth to see if I could find a match in the poison. It led me to two interesting conclusions. The first, was that the poison that took my father’s life was hemlock: the second, that there was no trace of hemlock in my father’s cup.”

     Curran’s jaw dropped. The Inquisition only released the initial investigation to the public to protect the privacy of the anonymous source. Discovering how the murder occurred was fascinating, but Curran seemed more interested by Heinwald’s detective skills. He certainly would be an asset for the Inquisition.

     “So,” Curran asked, “If your old man wasn’t poisoned from his tea, how was he?”

     “Hemlock is a relatively slow acting poison,” Heinwald informed, “While the victim will begin to feel muscle fatigue within thirty minutes, it takes several hours for them to die. My father’s death was certainly a slow, painful one.”

     “So he was poisoned hours before his body was found?”

     “Yes, and from that, I was able to easily discover the murderer’s identity. His body was found at four in the evening. If I traced back the time to his initial poisoning, he would have ingested it between noon and one in the afternoon. Around that time, Antonio had taken my father out for lunch… They went on a picnic in the fields and Antonio prepared the lunch himself. My suspicions were confirmed when I tested the basket Antonio brought to the picnic, finding traces of hemlock in the empty salad bowl.”

     “So that’s how you found out that Antonio was guilty…”

     “I’m certain you know what happened afterward… and there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t regret my decision… I reported Antonio to the Inquisition, presenting my evidence and convincing them that I had found the truth. At the time, I was overcome with pride. I thought I had saved the life of an innocent servant by bringing the true culprit to justice… But to this day, I wonder what would have happened if I had kept my mouth shut… I saved one life, but sacrificed two… This is why I know believe that when one pursues the truth, they must analyze all possible outcomes, lest it spark even more tragedy…”

     “Did your sister know that you were the one who reported Antonio?”

     “She hadn’t a clue… Though I’m certain that even if she did, she wouldn’t have held it against me. It wasn’t like her to hold a grudge… But after Antonio’s execution, she wasn’t the same. She holed herself in her room, not even leaving to eat. Our servants would have to deliver food to her so she wouldn’t starve to death. I found her body on what would have been her wedding day… She was hanging lifeless in her closet… a… a noose around her neck…”

     Heinwald buried his face in Curran’s shoulder, his anxiety hitting him again at full force. Curran knew exactly what to do. He stroked Heinwald’s back, his fingers ghosting over the fabric of his clothes and the shivering flesh underneath.

     “It’s ok Heinwald,” Curran comforted, “It’s not your fault…”

     “It is my fault though…” he sobbed, “If I hadn’t turned in Antonio… both he and my sister would still be alive… I murdered them…”

     “I know it’s hard. I know it may feel like its your fault, but that’s not true… You can analyze the possibilities all you want, but they’re only possibilities. The truth often is painful, and I know it can seem like there’s no positive outcome, but that’s life. You can’t change the past…”

     “Seeing her body… seeing her hanging in the closet… it reminded me of seeing mother die in front of me…”

     “You’ve been through a lot, Heinwald. I can’t even imagine enduring that much pain. The fact that you’re still alive today is a testament to your strength. It hurts. The past is cruel and regret is painful, but please know in your heart that this is not your fault…”

     “I miss Gretchen so much…”

     “I know you do. But she wouldn’t want you to spiral into depression because of her. Your sister wanted you to be happy right? Everything will be ok. I’m certain she could never hate you.”

     “I… I…”

     Curran squeezed Heinwald tight, attempting to calm him back down from his misery and regret.

     “Everything is ok,” Curran assured, “Everything will be ok…”

     Heinwald sighed heavily, gathering his composure to finish his story.

     “This is really hard…” he said, “But I’m almost done…”

     “You’re doing great, Heinwald. I admire your courage.”

     “Ok. I think I’m all right now. After my father and sister passed, I became the Lord of the house. Since I finally had control over the estate’s funds, I decided to pay a visit to Caldia. Even though my tuition was free, I wanted to at least donate what I would have paid. Their education was priceless. They deserved a generous donation…”

***

     “Heinwald my boy!” Headmaster Walt greeted, giving his former student a welcoming hug, “It is good to see you again! What brings you back here?”

     “My father has passed,” Heinwald informed, “I am now the Lord of family’s estate and in charge of our finances. This being said, I would like to make a donation to Caldia.”

     “I am sorry to hear about your father, but we will gladly accept your donation. Would you ever be interested in returning as a guest lecturer? Your talent is undeniable. I’m certain you could provide inspiration for our current students.”

     “Perhaps I will take you up on that eventually. I will keep in contact, Headmaster.”

     “Call me Walt.”

***

     “I did a bit of catching up with the Headmaster,” Heinwald continued, “Apparently since my graduation, the department of Dark Arts had seen an influx of students wanting to learn about healing arts. I simply thought it was coincidence, but he insisted that the department’s growth was due to my success. Anyway, as I donated a decent sum of money, Headmaster Walt permitted me entry to his personal library… Little did I know that hidden within those archives, was that cursed Grimoire…”

***

     Heinwald gaped at the massive collection of books, lining the walls for what felt like miles. He felt the Headmaster’s archives even dwarfed his own collection. Walt beamed in pride, showing off his personal library.

   “What do you think my boy?” he asked.

     “It’s incredible,” Heinwald replied, “I could spend a century here.”

     “Anyone who donates to our academy is granted access to my archives. You may return here any time you like to peruse my collection. Feel free to take any of them home with you. I trust that you will return them with time.”

     “Headmaster, are you certain?”

     “Of course! Enjoy yourself, Heinwald.”

     The Headmaster returned to his office, leaving Heinwald alone in the massive library. He walked down the halls of the archives, scanning the beautifully crafted tomes. As he perused, Heinwald heard a voice coming from deep within the library.

     “Thou seekest the truth,” it said, its voice distorted, “Wouldst thou venture to the abyss? We shalt give thee what thee seekest.”

     Heinwald turned his head, looking for the source of the voice.

     “Who are you?” he asked, “What do you mean?”

     “We are the abyss. We are that which is unknown.”

     The voice became louder. Heinwald felt drawn to it, slowly following the sound of its chatter. At the end of the hall, he spotted a large tome, its purple pages glowing and emitting a dark aura. His fascination with the dark arts overcame him. Heinwald needed to take this home to investigate. He reached out of the novel, a shock shooting through his body upon contact. The contents of the novel flashed through his mind, words spiraling into his brain and absorbing information like a sponge. His eyes rolled back in his head as information flooded him. Pain. Pleasure. Truth. Knowledge. Everything. Nothingness. Abyss. Regret.

     “Thou art worthy to be our vessel,” the voice from the book echoed, “For thou hast seen the truth. Thou hast experienced great loss. Thou hast nothing left to live for. Thou shalt live on for us; we shall prime thee as our vessel, and when thou sheddest thy mortal coil, thy body shalt be ours.”

     “Yes,” Heinwald responded involuntarily, “Nyarlathotep.”

     Heinwald snapped back to his senses, gazing at the tome before him. He had no memory of coming this far back into the library, but something inside him told him to take that grimoire back to his manor. He tucked the book under his coat and returned to Headmaster Walt’s office.

     “So you have found a tome that interested you?” Walt asked.

     “Yes,” Heinwald responded, “I shall return it as soon as I have finished it.”

     “Take your time boy. It was a pleasure seeing you again.”

     Walt extended his hand to shake Heinwald’s, but suddenly pulled back.

     “Heinwald, what happened to your right hand?” he wondered, shocked.

     Heinwald looked down at his hand and gasped. The skin on his hand was completely gray and coarse to the touch. His fingernails were black as pitch, their rounded ends turning sharp like talons.

     “I…” he stammered, “I don’t know…”

     “Perhaps you should have it checked out when you return to your home,” Walt suggested, “Be careful boy.”

     “I will, Headmaster…”

     As Heinwald left the academy, boarding a carriage to return home, he began to feel oddly ill. His head pounded with a sharp pain in his temples and it felt as though something was about to burst out of his upper and lower back. The fingernails on his left hand sharpened, now matching the black talons of his right one. Suddenly the pain became unbearable, making him double over inside the carriage. His vision went black and screams filled the air.

     It hurt. Everything hurt. His vision blurred in the pitch darkness, until three forms came into view. He recognized these people all too well. It was his mother, his sister, and Antonio. Why were they here, standing before him? They were all dead. Heinwald reached out a hand, desperately trying to see if it was truly them. With the blink of an eye, their forms contorted and Heinwald fell backwards in shock.

     His mother’s hair unraveled from her tight bun, her fair skin turning blue as rough handprints indented into her neck, making her head tilt and snap to the side. Blood spilt from Antonio’s mouth like a waterfall. His head slowly tilted forward, rolling clean off from his neck and landing at his feet, his headless form still oozing blood. Gretchen slowly floated into the air, a phantom noose encircling her neck as her body ominously swung from side to side.

     “Hein…wald,” the three walking corpses said, “You have been very bad… Heinwald…”

     Heinwald shrieked in pain as horns pierced through the flesh of his scalp, blood now running down his face. The fabric of his coat and pants were torn asunder as two ominous black wings and a tail sprouted out of his back and hips. His jet-black hair streaked white before his eyes, no doubt from the stress and pain of his body growing these monstrous parts.

     “Mother…” he choked, “Gretchen, Antonio… What is happening to me?”

     “This is your punishment,” Charlotte’s corpse whispered, “You are a foul monster.”

     “It is because of you that we are dead,” Antonio’s dismembered head scolded.

     “You can only find justice through this,” Gretchen’s body choked.

     “By becoming the vessel of the Abyss,” all three announced in unison, “By becoming the seed that will bloom into the second coming of Nyarlathotep.”

     “Nyarlathotep?” Heinwald asked painfully, “I’m… I’m going to turn into a monster from the Abyss? No! Mother! Gretchen! I’m sorry! Please… please save me!”

     “There is no salvation,” the corpses answered, their forms now melting into a thick black sludge.

     From their remains emerged the Beast of the Abyss, Nyarlathotep. Its form pinned Heinwald down, drooling onto his face. Heinwald shivered in fear as tears spilt from his eyes.

     “Only the Abyss,” it growled.

     It opened its gaping maw, its tongue licking the right side of Heinwald’s face. Heinwald froze as its sharp fangs grew closer, feeling its hot, pungent breath against his skin.

     “No…” he begged, “PLEASE SPARE ME!”

     “This is thy fate,” the beast growled, “Thou art Nyarlathotep.”

     Just as the beast chomped its maw down over Heinwald’s head, he rose from the floor of the carriage, drenched in sweat. He panted in fear, trying to calm himself down.

     “A… a nightmare?” he asked himself.

     He gazed to his side, spotting a long, black tail sprouting from his hips. Heinwald flexed the muscles of his back, discovering the pair of dark wings he grew during the “dream” and his hands wandered to his scalp, feeling the barbed horns now sitting at the crown of his head. The grimoire in his lap now pulsed with dark magic, ominously glowing as if it were rejoicing at his new form.

     “A…” Heinwald choked, “AHHHHHHHHHHH!”

***

     “Nyarlathotep hid itself within that grimoire,” Heinwald explained, “I was unfortunate enough to be chosen by it. Now I am a vessel of that foul beast. When I die, it will take over my body… and my soul will be sent to the abyss. Quite an appropriate punishment I believe, to be cursed to appear as a monster, then actually transform into one when I die…”

     Curran balled his palms into fists, gritting his teeth in frustration.

     “Like hell it’s an appropriate punishment!” he yelled, “You don’t deserve this Heinwald. After how much you already suffered? That… No one deserves to go through that…”

     “I can’t exactly do anything about it,” Heinwald sighed, “You said yourself that the past cannot be changed…”

     “That doesn’t mean we can’t change the future! You said it was a curse, right? Curses can be broken can’t they?”

     “Do you think I haven’t already tried? My only clue was that Nyarlathotep deemed me a worthy vessel because I had lost my reason to live… And after ten years of living like this, I doubt I’ll be able to regain it…”

     Heinwald went quiet, sliding out of Curran’s embrace to distance himself. Curran rubbed his chin in thought, trying to figure out a way to free Heinwald from his misery.

     “I’ll help you,” he offered, “I’ll help you find a reason to live.”

     “You certainly love taking on the impossible, don’t you,” Heinwald chuckled, “I suppose I can’t stop you, but why would you want to help me? You have nothing to gain from it…”

     “I can’t just let someone suffer like this, especially not a friend.”

     Heinwald’s eyes lit up as a rosy blush crept across his cheeks.

     “Friend…” Heinwald repeated, “You consider me a friend?”

     “Of course,” Curran replied, rubbing his neck, “I mean, we may have had a bit of a rocky start, but after allowing yourself be so vulnerable around me, I can’t help but think of you as a friend.”

     Heinwald smiled. He wrapped his arms around Curran, hugging him tightly.

     “Thank you Curran,” Heinwald said, “Your friendship… I will truly cherish it…”


	11. Le Premier Vol

     Curran opened the door to the pantry, discovering a fresh leg of venison hanging within. Heinwald must have gone hunting last night. He peeked into the dining room, seeing Heinwald sitting at the head of the table with a book in his hand.

     “I think you might have forgotten to salt the meat,” Curran commented, “Do you want me to do that so it can cure tonight?”

     “Oh no it was intentional,” Heinwald replied, flipping a page of the novel, “I know you like fresh ingredients, so I figured it can go a day without curing. Feel free to use it to your heart’s content.”

     “Wow, thanks. I’ll cook something nice up for lunch then.”

     As Curran proceeded into the kitchen, Heinwald smiled, burying his face in his book. He knew providing fresh venison wasn’t much, but he figured it was the least he could do for Curran. Two weeks had passed since Curran began living in his estate, yet it felt like Heinwald had known him his whole life. Just having him around to talk to made his life more bearable. While Curran was still under the spell of the sigil, Heinwald had grown more lenient with its conditions, allowing Curran additional freedom. For once, Heinwald felt at peace.

     “Sorry for the wait,” Curran said, carrying in two plates of food to the dining room, “Lunch is served.”

     Curran set the porcelain plate in front of Heinwald, carrying his to the other side of the table.

     “Wait,” Heinwald interrupted, “Would you mind sitting next to me?”

     Curran chuckled, carrying his platter back to the head of the table of sit down next to Heinwald.

     “Of course,” he responded.

     Heinwald gazed down at the beautifully seared filet of venison. Fresh herbs speckled the caramelized crust, only adding to the delectable smell of the already tender meat. On the side were an array of roasted vegetables and potatoes, seasoned with garlic and pepper. Heinwald picked up his fork and knife to cut into the meat, revealing a perfectly pink medium-rare which oozed with savory juices. He lifted his fork to his mouth, biting into the tender venison. The aromatic herbs danced around his palate as he savored his soft, delicious bite of meat.

     “Your cooking is amazing as always Curran,” Heinwald raved, slicing off another bite of venison.

     “Shucks,” Curran responded humbly, “I’m even that good with wild game. You should see what I can do with farm raised livestock.”

     “I would certainly love to taste that. Unfortunately I’ve never come across a cow in the forest.”

     “Do you always go for deer when you go hunting?”

     “They usually have the best yield of meat while being not too difficult to catch. Bear meat would certainly last longer, but I fear if I pursued one in the forest, I’d be the one being eaten…”

     “I’m sure that if I helped, we could take one down together.”

     “No need to worry yourself about that. I wouldn’t want to deny you your sleep.”

     “But I want to go out on a hunt with you. I don’t care if I have to get up early, it sound like it would be fun.”

     Heinwald chuckled, pushing the vegetables around his plate with his fork.

     “Fun, huh?” he laughed, “Well, we can try it out tonight. Don’t complain to me when I come in to wake you up at three AM.”

     Heinwald stood up from the table, attempting to take his plate to the kitchen, when he suddenly felt Curran grab his shoulder.

     “Where do you think you’re going,” Curran grunted.

     “To the sink?” Heinwald responded, “I’m done with my lunch.”

     Curran looked down at Heinwald’s plate. While he had cleared off all of the meat and potatoes from the plate, it was clear he hadn’t eaten a single vegetable. He shook his head in disdain, forcing Heinwald back into his seat.

     “Seriously?” he scolded, “At least eat your vegetables. They’re good for you.”

     “I… I eat vegetables!” Heinwald retorted, “I just don’t like these ones…”

     “Pickles don’t count.”

     “Damn it…”

     Curran stabbed his fork into one of the florets of broccoli on the plate, pushing it up to Heinwald’s mouth. Heinwald winced, squeezing his lips shut as Curran tried to force the vegetable into his mouth.

     “Come on Heinwald,” Curran urged, “I seasoned these really well. Stop being a baby and eat your broccoli!”

     “NOOOOOO!” Heinwald complained.

     Curran took advantage of Heinwald opening his mouth to complain to shove the piece of broccoli inside. Heinwald’s face contorted in disgust as he was forced to chew and swallow the vegetable.

     “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Curran teased.

   “Ugh…” Heinwald sighed, “I hate you, Curran!”

     “Geez, I didn’t think the broccoli tasted that bad…”

     “Curran what did I do to deserve this torture…”

     “Stop being so dramatic. It’s just a vegetable. Honestly you’ve got the taste buds of a kid.”

     “Shut up… I ate the damn thing, may I go clean off my plate now?”

     “Guess I can’t really force you… Eh, sure. I’m content that you at least ate one.”

     Heinwald rolled his eyes, picking up his plate to clean it off in the sink. Though he was the Lord of the manor, he began feeling guilty about Curran taking on all of the housework and decided to help out himself. His contributions were a bit smaller, like washing his own dishes, making his bed, and keeping the library organized, but it was still helpful to Curran nonetheless. Curran watched from the dining room, observing the rhythmic swishing of Heinwald’s tail as he washed his dish. Curran nearly did a double take when he saw the tail grab a towel from the dish rack, wiping the plate that Heinwald held steady in his hands clean.

     “I didn’t know your tail was pre… prehensi…” Curran stumbled over his words.

     “Prehensile?” Heinwald finished, “Yes, I can pick things up with it. It’s surprisingly useful.”

     Curran blushed as he recalled the time he grabbed Heinwald’s tail while he was asleep. The way he reacted made it look like the tail was an extremely sensitive area, possibly even an erogenous zone.

     “Does it ever feel…” Curran mumbled, “Strange… when you pick things up with it?”

   “What do you mean?” he wondered, “Define strange.”

     Curran immediately regretted asking. This conversation was a slippery slope to begin with, and for someone like Heinwald, who prioritized knowledge over carnal pleasures, it was certain to only get more awkward.

     “You know, never mind…” Curran dismissed.

***

     Curran grumbled as he was shaken awake. He slowly opened his eyes, his vision focusing to see Heinwald looking down at him. Heinwald wore a dark cloak over his usual attire, covering up his wings and tail.

     “Wake up,” Heinwald ordered, “I’m about to leave for my hunt.”

     “Can I rest for five more minutes?” Curran groaned.

     “Ho? Are you regretting your decision to join me on one of my late night hunts?”

     “Ugh… Ok, I’ll be ready in a bit.”

     Curran threw the covers off, crawling out of bed. Heinwald blushed, turning away in embarrassment as Curran emerged from under the sheets. He was wearing nothing but a pair of underwear, but Heinwald couldn’t bring himself to look away from the taut muscles of his chest and abs.

     “Put… put some clothes on will you?!” Heinwald scolded, “Do you always go to sleep in the nude?”

     “You never gave me a pair of pajamas,” Curran replied, still half asleep, “But I don’t really mind. The sheets are comfortable enough.”

     “Just get dressed already…”

     “Ok, ok… I don’t see why you’re getting all worked up about this. We’re both guys.”

     Heinwald pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, attempting to hide his blush as Curran began getting dressed. Curran’s body was truly a sight to behold. From firm musculature that stretched across his back to the rounded muscles of his biceps, he was the pinnacle of masculinity and fitness. No doubt his manual labor only helped to tone the already defined muscles across his body. Seeing Curran’s nearly nude body awakened a strange feeling inside of Heinwald. Was it envy that his body was scrawny and spindly in comparison, or was it something more? Regardless, Heinwald felt like he could stare at Curran’s body all day, but wanted him to finish dressing as soon as possible, lest he lose himself to these strange new fantasies.

     Curran tugged his shirt over his head, straightening the cotton fabric out to lie comfortably across his chest. He slipped into his trousers, sliding his feet into his boots before lacing them up.

     “Ok, I’m just about ready,” he said, “Mind telling me where you put my ax? I’m not too fond of hunting bare-handed.”

     Heinwald lowered his hood, now that his blush had faded.

     “Sure. Follow me,” he instructed.

     Heinwald lead Curran out of the master bedroom to his room at the end of the hall. It was about the same size as Gretchen’s room, but the décor inside was much more… Heinwald. Books were scattered across the dressers, bed, and floor, and violet curtains stood out from the room’s gray walls. Heinwald walked into his closet, removing Curran’s ax as well as a cloak for him to wear. He gently handed him the ax while draping the cloak over his shoulders, lacing the tie around his neck to keep it in place.

     “What’s the cape for?” Curran asked.

     “I usually wear it to remain hidden,” Heinwald said, “That way even if someone sees me, at least my horns and wings will be covered. But it does get a bit cold out on the hunt. I figured you would need it to keep warm.”

     “I appreciate the thought. Now, are you ready?”

     Heinwald grabbed a long, wooden staff from the closet, swishing it around with ease. He slung an empty sack over his back and turned around.

   “Yes,” he replied, “Let’s be off then.”

     Heinwald raised his hood, covering up his barbed horns. If Curran looked directly at him, he could still see the pointed tips poking out from the front of the cloak, but otherwise, Heinwald’s monstrous features were pretty well hidden. They departed the house, walking through the fields to the nearest forest. It was about a mile away, and while Curran didn’t mind walking this distance, he was surprise that Heinwald didn’t make use of his wings and fly to the forest. Perhaps he chose to walk so he wouldn’t leave Curran behind. They eventually reached the brink of the woods, its tall evergreens standing ominously before them.

     “Looks pretty dark in there…” Curran worried.

     “Are you frightened?” Heinwald asked.

     “Nah. I’m more worried about tripping over roots and smacking into tree branches. Guess I’ll just have to be extra careful.”

     Heinwald gazed at the sigil, still glowing upon Curran’s neck. Suddenly, he came up with an idea.

     “Close your eyes Curran,” he ordered, “I’m going to give you a bit of my night vision.”

     “Don’t you need that more than I do?” Curran asked, “You’re the one with glasses.”

     “I’ll be fine. I don’t want you tripping and landing on the blade of your ax.”

     Curran closed his eyes and tilted his head, allowing Heinwald access to the sigil singed upon his flesh. Heinwald swallowed hard as he pressed his lips to the sigil, licking and biting down upon the glowing mark. While he had done this in the past to plant the brand upon Curran’s neck, for some reason, transferring a bit of his power to him made Heinwald’s heart skip a beat. He pulled his mouth away, the sigil now glowing a bit brighter with the power of night vision transferred over.

     “Open your eyes,” Heinwald said.

     Curran slowly opened his eyes, the outlines and details of the forest appearing before him as clear as daylight.

     “Wow,” he commented, “So this is what you can see at night?”

     “Makes trying to fall asleep a pain in the ass,” Heinwald sighed, “But it does have its benefits. Now, let’s get to hunting.”

     The two headed into the woods, carefully treading as not to scare the wildlife. Heinwald would occasionally stop as they walked, raising his staff over a patch of grass and creating a glowing, purple insignia.

     “What are those?” Curran asked.

     “Traps,” Heinwald replied, “I set these up for catching smaller game like rabbits and quails. Unfortunately they’re usually ineffective… squirrels get caught in them most of the time and if I ever am lucky enough to catch a rabbit, it usually ends up chewing its own leg off to escape.”

     “Why do you use ‘em then?”

     “Even if I don’t catch anything, they make good trail markers at the very least.”

     Curran looked down at the glowing patch of grass. He started to wonder if Heinwald always carried his hunts out on foot. If he flew out, he wouldn’t need to use trail markers. Curran was too lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed Heinwald had already continued walking. He scampered to catch up with him, only to be stopped by Heinwald holding out his staff. Curran looked ahead of them, spying a large brown bear wading through the nearby stream.

     “There’s our prey,” Heinwald whispered, “I’m going to try to stun it. Back me up when I charge in.”

     Heinwald lifted his staff, muttering an incantation before pointing it at the bear.

     “Call of Chaos,” he chanted.

     Tendrils of darkness sprouted out from the water beneath the bear, holding it down as it struggled to escape.

     “Now!” Heinwald shouted.

     He leapt forward, retracting his claws and sinking them into the back of the bear. It growled in pain as Heinwald bit into its throat with his sharp fangs, violently thrashing and tearing away at its flesh. Curran couldn’t believe his eyes. The normally frail and reserved Heinwald was slaughtering this bear like a true beast. He could see the look of a blood-crazed fiend in Heinwald’s eyes as he tore the skin from the bear’s still living flesh, shredding its muscles with his sharp talons and claws. The tendrils that Heinwald called forth were beginning to retreat back into the water. If the bear wasn’t held in place, it could easily overpower Heinwald and kill him. Before the bear had an opportunity to fight back, Curran joined the fray, slitting its throat with his ax. The bear collapsed in the water, its blood sullying the once pristine stream. Heinwald looked up from the collapsed pray, spitting out a wad of fur. The bloodlust in his eyes had since faded, and he wiped the blood and gore from his face and hands.

     “Thanks for the help,” Heinwald said, “We certainly will be stocked on meat for a while. Mind helping me filet it? I can usually carry home a deer on my own, but I fear this bear is a bit too heavy for me.”

     “I… I wasn’t expecting you to hunt like that,” Curran confessed, “You really tore at that bear… Like a… a…”

     “Like a beast… I know… I fear when I go on these hunts, Nyarlathotep takes a bit of control… I try to make my prey’s death as painless as possible, but I couldn’t for the life of me find its jugular… Thank you for putting it out of its misery…”

     “Don’t mention it…”

     Curran handed Heinwald a dagger to begin skinning and fileting their prize. As Heinwald slid his dagger under the skin of the bear, Curran cut it into edible portions to carry back.

     “Hey, Heinwald,” he said, “I wanted to ask you something.”

     “What is it?” Heinwald replied, stacking their meat filets up before placing them inside of his sack.

     “Its about your wings. Do they work?”

     “What do you mean?”

     “Can you fly?”

     Heinwald set the dagger down. He was certain that his wings weren’t vestigial as he could flex them and move them on his own, but he had never even attempted to fly with them.”

     “I’m not so sure,” he answered, “I’ve never tried.”

     “Really? I’m surprised.”

     “Why is that?”

     “In all of those books you read. Don’t some of them address flying creatures like dragons and angels? Doesn’t it ever just sound amazing to be able to fly?”

     “Well, if I’m being honest… I’m a bit frightened… I don’t want to fall.”

     “What if I helped you? I could teach you how to fly.”

     “The last time I checked, you don’t have wings, Curran.”

     “But I could spot you. I’ll hold onto you and catch you if you feel like you’re about to fall.”

     “You honestly seem more excited about the prospect of me flying than I am… But I suppose I’ll humor you. You better not let me fall.”

     Curran grabbed Heinwald’s hands, looking him straight in his eyes with the utmost sincerity.

     “I promise,” he vowed, “I won’t let you fall.”

***

     They carried the sack of bear meat to the nearest clearing, trying to find a perfect spot with enough coverage so they wouldn’t be seen, but enough room for Heinwald to spread his wings. Eventually they found it, a small clearing near the heart of the forest. Fireflies flitted through the air, illuminating the mossy knolls and tall trees. Mushrooms sprouted from the tree roots and small forest life lay silent, slumbering in the branches above. Heinwald gripped tightly onto Curran’s hand. He felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Curran, but flying was something so foreign to him, he couldn’t help but be afraid.

     “Are you ready?” Curran asked.

     “I’m still a bit frightened,” Heinwald replied.

     “Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.”

     Curran unlaced the tie around Heinwald’s neck, letting his cloak fall off his shoulders and to the forest floor. Heinwald nervously gripped at Curran’s hands as he stretched out his wings to their full span. Under the light of the moon and faint illumination from the fireflies, they looked oddly beautiful, their black scales reflecting the light shining down upon them.

     “Ok,” Curran instructed, “Try flapping your wings.”

     Heinwald nodded nervously, closing his eyes as he flexed the muscles of his wings, flapping them slowly back and forth. His feet rose an inch off of the ground, making his heart nearly stop from nerves. He gripped harder at Curran’s hands, terrified of falling, even from the meager height of an inch.

     “Don’t let go of me!” Heinwald ordered.

     “Don’t worry,” Curran assured, “I’m here. You’re doing great Heinwald. I won’t let go until you’re ready.”

     Heinwald took deep breaths, his palms growing sweaty in Curran’s hands as he floated off of the ground. It was frightening, not having the assurance of the solid earth beneath him, but by simply holding Curran’s hands, he was grounded despite floating midair.

     “You’re about a foot off of the ground now Heinwald,” Curran cheered, “You’re doing a great job.”

     Heinwald slowly opened his eyes, seeing Curran looking up at him with pride. He looked down to his feet, noticing the space between him and the ground beneath him. The sight made his wings tense up. Even though he was only a foot off of the ground, it felt like he was miles above it.

     “I… I can’t do it…” Heinwald whimpered.

     “Yes you can,” Curran encouraged, “Don’t give up Heinwald, I believe in you.”

     Heinwald focused only on Curran as he continued flapping his wings, rising further off of the ground. As he floated into the sky above, they grew further apart, their arms now fully extended to keep their hands clasped together.

     “Ok Heinwald,” Curran said, his arms growing tired from holding them high above his head, “I’m going to let go…”

     “No! You can’t!” Heinwald protested, “What if I fall!”

     “Then I’ll catch you. Trust me Heinwald. I won’t let you get hurt.”

     “Ok… I trust you…”

    “Alright. On the count of three, I’m going to let go. Just keep flapping your wings like you are doing right now. One… Two… Three!”

     Curran let go of Heinwald, holding his arms out below him in case he froze up and fell. Heinwald was speechless. He was flying. He was really flying. A smile spread across his face as he grew more comfortable in the air, soaring around the forest clearing.

     “Curran!” he shouted from above, “I’m flying! Look I can fly!”

     Curran looked up proudly, gazing at Heinwald as he happily flitted around in the night sky.

     “I told you that you could do it!” Curran yelled back, “Not so scary anymore, is it?”

     “It’s fun… It’s so much fun!”

     Heinwald descended back into the forest, floating in front of Curran and holding out his hand.

     “Do you want to try flying too?” he offered.

     “Can you even pick me up?” Curran wondered.

     “I can always try.”

     Curran accepted his hand, reaching out to swing his arms around Heinwald’s waist. Heinwald wrapped his tail around Curran’s body, hoping to hold him in place as he took off.

     “Hold on tight!” Heinwald said.

     Heinwald threw his arms over Curran’s shoulders as the two ascended into the sky. Curran was quite heavy for Heinwald to carry, but he didn’t care. He was over the moon that he got to experience the thrill of flying with Curran. Curran cheered, smiling ear to ear as he and Heinwald soared through the night sky.

     “Heinwald this is awesome!” he shouted, “You’re so amazing.”

     Heinwald blushed bashfully, “I couldn’t have done this without your help. You’re quite the teacher.”

     Curran chuckled, flattered by Heinwald’s compliment. Heinwald stared into his blue eyes, the moonlight making them appear as if they were glowing. His blonde hair looked as pure as gold, standing out against his fair skin. Flying together, holding him tight to make sure neither of them fell, their faces were close enough to touch. Heinwald wouldn’t mind if Curran leaned forward and…

     Heinwald suddenly remembered the supply of bear meat and their weapons that they had left down at the forest floor. He wanted to continue their flight, but they needed to get back to the estate before the meat spoiled.

     “We should probably head back…” Heinwald sighed.

     “Yeah, you’re probably right,” Curran responded, “We should do this again sometime though. Hunting, flying, I had a great time.”

     “Me too…”

     Heinwald gently descended to the forest floor, unwrapping his tail from around Curran. The moment they separated made Heinwald feel like a stake had just been driven through his heart. Curran tossed Heinwald his staff and cloak, picking up his ax and the sack full of bear meat.

     “Well, let’s get going back to the manor,” Curran said.

     For the entire walk back, Heinwald’s heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Curran now considered him a friend, but Heinwald felt that his feelings transcended those of amity alone. The flight, Curran coaching him and encouraging him to abandon his fears, it felt so intimate. He didn’t know what was becoming of him. Was it normal to get this flustered over a friend? It was times like this when he wished Gretchen or his mother was still around. What advice could they offer him on these blossoming feelings?


	12. Le Festin Fraîche

     Heinwald grumbled, poking the slab of freshly cooked bear meat sitting on his plate. He and Curran had been eating this for the past few days, but he still couldn’t stomach the meat’s gamey taste. Even if Curran seasoned it with the finest spices and the richest sauces, the texture of the bear filet was like gristle, nearly impossible to eat unless braised for hours.

     “Heinwald,” Curran said, shoveling another forkful of bear meat into his mouth, “Aren’t you going to eat your dinner?”

     “I never expected bear to taste so dreadful…” Heinwald sighed, “It’s nothing against your cooking Curran… As a matter of fact, I feel your cooking might have spoiled me. I could always get by eating salted jerky and pickles, but now I can’t even stomach fresh bear meat…”

   “To be fair, it is kinda tough. Not my best work.”

     “I doubt even the royal chef of King Alberius himself could make this palatable… I almost feel sorry that we had to kill that bear only to find its meat so disgusting…”

     “If you don’t like it, I’ll eat it. It’s not my favorite for sure, but I don’t want to see it go to waste.”

     Heinwald gazed back down at his plate. The bear was nigh inedible, but he noticed that Curran at least provided him a side dish. Of course, it was an array of stir-fried vegetables. He never would have thought of using vegetables to cleanse his palate from the meat, but Heinwald was desperate for something that tasted better. Heinwald poked his fork into a piece of squash on the plate, hesitantly bringing it up to his mouth and chewing it. It wasn’t as bad as he expected, since Curran had seasoned the vegetables beautifully.

     “Dost mine eyes deceive me?” Curran teased, “The great Lord Heinwald eating vegetables of all things? I must surely be dreaming.”

     “Piss off…” Heinwald mumbled grumpily, eating the rest of the assorted veggies on his plate.

     “I’m just glad you’re at least starting to eat more healthily. For someone who primarily eats preserved meats and pickles, you’re skin and bones.”

     “I can’t exactly go out midday to exercise Curran. If someone saw me, they’d probably think I’m a fiend and try to kill me…”

     “That cape you wore a few nights ago on the hunt did a pretty good job of hiding your wings and tail. Maybe if you wore that out…”

     “Anyone who wears a hood up midday looks like a suspicious character. What if someone asked me to pull it down? There’s no way I could blend in with my horns…”

     Heinwald paused for a moment, suddenly remembering a book he read a while ago.

     “Or could I?” he continued.

     “What do you mean, Hein?” Curran asked.

     “I recall reading a novel a while ago from an ancient society to the east, _The Romance of the Three Kingdoms_. It was written a group of people who had horns sprouting from the crowns of their heads, the Qilin tribe.”

     “So in their tribe, people with horns looked normal? You’d blend right in! Damn shame that it’s an ancient tribe.”

     “Well, I have heard rumors of Qilin villages being scattered throughout Alberia. My memory on the exact location is hazy, but I seem to recall reading in one of my atlases that there’s one nestled in the mountain range a few miles north of here… Now that you’ve shown me how to, I could easily fly there, perhaps even get some fresh ingredients for the pantry. Curran, would you like to come with me?”

     “Sure! It’ll be nice to get out of the area. Even though I’m pretty sure you’re only inviting me to come so you don’t have to carry the ingredients back.”

     “I’ll be carrying you, you dolt… and you’re not exactly light…”

     “At least you’ll be getting some exercise.”

     Heinwald scowled, getting up from the dining room table.

     “If I get tired, you’re carrying me…” Heinwald complained.

***

     Come morning, Heinwald gathered a fair amount of rupies from his family’s safe, preparing for his first trip to a market in ten years. While the Qilin did have horns similar to his, he still feared being ostracized. At the very least, the tribe was far enough away that they wouldn’t chase after him, while still being flying distance if he ever wanted to return. He tied up his cape, lifting his hood before going to wake Curran. As soon as he opened the door to Curran’s room he noticed that Curran was already out of bed, dressed and ready to go.

     “You seem far more eager than when I woke you for the hunt,” Heinwald commented.

     “I’m used to waking up around this time,” Curran replied, “Besides, I’m excited to get some more fresh air.”

     “If you’re ready, come with me then. We should probably take off from the forest, just to be sure no one sees me flying.”

     “Couple miles of walking doesn’t bother me.”

     The two proceeded downstairs to the foyer, opening the front door of the manor to the fields outside. Heinwald squinted his eyes from the brightness of the sun. It had been ten years since he had seen direct sunlight, so the light was almost blinding. Curran inhaled deeply, puffing out his chest as he took in the crisp, fresh air of the meadow.

     “Feels good to be out in the sun for once,” he smiled, “What do you think, Heinwald? Heinwald?”

     Heinwald pulled his hood over his eyes, scurrying back to the front door.

     “I want to go back inside…” he hissed, “It’s too damn bright…”

     “Come on, Heinwald,” Curran sighed, “A little bit of sun isn’t going to hurt you.”

     “It hurts my eyes…”

     “Come on, stop being such a wimp.”

     Heinwald grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut to ward off the painful brightness of the sun’s natural light. Suddenly, Curran got an idea. He walked up to Heinwald, sweeping him off of his feet and holding him gently in his arms.

     “Idiot!” Heinwald protested, blushing as Curran picked him up, “I was joking when I said you’d have to carry me! Put me down!”

     “I think it’s a fair compromise,” Curran answered, “I carry you to the forest and you carry me when we fly up the mountain. Besides, this will give you time to save your energy and let your eyes adjust.”

     “Fine… Do what you must…”

     Although the two were the only people out in the field, Heinwald couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at being carried like a princess. Curran made it look completely effortless too, making him feel self-conscious of his own spindly physique in comparison to Curran’s muscular body. Despite the initial embarrassment, Heinwald was beginning to feel comfortable, leaning his head against Curran’s broad shoulder as Curran’s firm but gentle arms cradled him. He almost felt like he could fall asleep; Curran’s strong pectorals would make a fine pillow after all. The brightness of the sun faded into the covered shade of the forest. While his eyes had now adjusted to the natural light of the sun, dark, shady environments felt more comfortable to Heinwald. Curran set Heinwald down gently on a tree stump, stretching his arms to relax the taut muscles of his biceps.

     “I wasn’t too heavy, was I?” Heinwald worried.

     “Nah, you’re light as a feather,” Curran assured, “Honestly the hardest part is just getting my arms under your wings. Just let me know when you’re ready to take off.”

     Heinwald stood up from the stump, shedding his cloak to unfold the full span of his wings. He twisted the cape tightly, approaching Curran and wrapping it around the two of them before tying it in a knot.

     “I’m still going to support you with my tail and want you to hang on,” he informed, “But I figured an extra layer of precaution couldn’t hurt… Unless you mind being this close together…”

     Curran blushed, rubbing the back of his neck and averting his gaze, “’Course I don’t mind.”

     Heinwald grinned, throwing his arms over Curran’s shoulders while Curran’s arms settled around his waist. He wrapped his tail around their bodies, supporting the bulk of Curran’s weight. Slowly, Heinwald began flapping his wings, his heart leaping as they began to float off of the ground. He looked over Curran’s shoulder, checking his surroundings one last time before taking off into the skies above. Flying during the day felt quite different from flying at night. It seemed less magical. His dark wings absorbed the heat of the sun, making him sweat under his thick black vest, and to add to it, Heinwald was weighed down with the biting anxiety that someone might see him and think he was a monster trying to kidnap an innocent civilian.

     Through the thick white clouds, Heinwald began to make out a mountain range coming into view, their peaks piercing even further into the skies above. He squinted his eyes, scanning each area for any indication of a village. To his dismay, he saw nothing but patches of rocky terrain and twisted paths. Yet something felt odd as he approached the heart of the mountain range, as if a massive supply of mana was pooling around a clearing. He recalled from the various Qilin books he read that the tribes were often secretive and wary to outsiders, hiding their villages in plain sight with the use of sealing spells. The sheer quantity of mana flowing from this area indicated one of these spells was in use, and while Heinwald wasn’t quite sure if he could break it, he could try to fool it at the very least.

     Once they descended to the clearing, Heinwald threw his cloak back on and squatted down into the dirt below, drawing out a sigil with one of his claws.

     “What are you doing Hein?” Curran wondered, “Casting a spell or something?”

     “I’m drawing a magic circle,” Heinwald replied, “It’s clear that the village is hidden here, but they’re using some powerful sealing magic to do so.”

     “But you can break it?”

     “Not quite, but I think I can bypass it long enough for us to sneak inside. Qilin magic is quite different from Alberian magic, but as long as it uses mana, I can block it by reversing the mana’s flow.”

     Heinwald wiped his brow after finishing his magic circle, ensuring all of the runes were correct. He placed his hand on the ground, next to the intricate scrawl. The circle glowed violet as he muttered an incantation under his breath. A tear appeared in reality itself, revealing from nothingness a bustling village of horned people. It wavered as the violet light dimmed, but it seemed just wide enough for the two of them to squeeze through in time.

     “Now Curran!” Heinwald ordered, pushing him through the gap in the mana.

     Heinwald stumbled in behind him, joining him inside of the hidden Qilin village. His jaw dropped when he saw the inhabitants in person. Many of the villagers had a pair of horns growing from their scalps. While some looked like stags, there were others whose horns were even similar to his barbed ones. There were even a few humans living in this town, so even Curran would be able to pass for a citizen. So long as he kept his wings and tail hidden with his cape, he would certainly have no issue blending in here.

     The pair walked down the busy streets, looking at the shops and restaurants lining the road. A delicious smell wafted through the air, making Heinwald stop dead in his tracks. His stomach grumbled eagerly as he looked up at the sign hanging above. It read “Dim Sum Mai,” with carvings of dumplings and steamers next to it.

     “Curran,” Heinwald said, salivating in anticipation, “Let’s eat here for lunch. We can get food for later afterwards.”

     “What kinda grub they serving here?” Curran asked.

     “It looks like dumplings. Regardless, it smells incredible. Let’s go in.”

     Heinwald grabbed Curran by the hand and pushed open the door. The inside was lit by red paper lanterns and waitresses carried bamboo steaming baskets throughout the establishment. The hostess smiled pleasantly at them, bowing politely.

     “Welcome,” she said, “Table for two?”

     “Yes,” Heinwald replied, “Wherever is first available.”

     The hostess grabbed a pair of menus, ushering them to a nearby booth. Heinwald was shocked that she didn’t even question his appearance. Perhaps she truly thought he was a Qilin. If this acceptance was a sign of what was to come, Heinwald felt confident that he could enjoy the day without being shunned as a monster. As the pair sat down at their booth, Curran noticed a lack of cutlery at the table. Only plates, dipping sauces, napkins and pairs of bamboo sticks sat in front of them.

     “Your waitress will be with you shortly,” the hostess informed, returning to her position at the front of the house.

     “Hein,” Curran whispered, “They don’t have forks or knives. How are we supposed to eat?”

     Heinwald gazed around at the other patrons, noticing them holding the wooden sticks between their fingers to grab, slice, and eat their food. He quickly picked up his pair to try it out, positioning them in a similar manner before giving a few test movements.

     “It looks like this is our silverware,” he replied, “Do try your best not to stand out when we eat. I would hate to be thrown out.”

     “I can try, but no guarantees…” Curran sighed, “Let’s check out the menu anyway.”

     Heinwald flipped open his menu, seeing a long list of dumplings, soups, noodles, and rice dishes, all with descriptions that made his mouth water. Soon, a Qilin woman approached their table. Her hair was tied up into two round buns next to her horns and she wore a traditional qipao with an apron around her waist.

     “Good afternoon,” she greeted, “My name is Xi and I’ll be your waitress. Have you two eaten here before?”

     “It’s our first time here. We’re visiting from another tribe to the west,” Heinwald bluffed.

     “It is always nice to see travelers from the other tribes visiting our establishment! Our menu best works as a family style feast. We usually recommend that parties of two order one hot soup, one rice or noodle dish, two to three different dumplings, and one side dish! I personally suggest the pork bao buns. They’re chef Mai’s specialty!”

     Heinwald looked over to Curran, who looked completely lost at trying choose a dish he wanted.

     “Heinwald, you can just order for the two of us,” he said.

    “Are you ready to order then?” Xi asked.

     Heinwald lit up after being given freedom to choose whatever he wanted. Everything on the menu sounded wonderful, but he had managed to narrow it down to a selection he believed that both he and Curran would enjoy.

     “Yes,” he answered, “We’ll take an order of oolong tea to drink, a bowl of hot and sour soup, the chicken fried rice, the pork bao buns, the pork soup dumplings, the shrimp shumai, and the cucumber salad.”

     Xi jotted down the order on her notepad and grinned, “Excellent choices! I’ll be right out with your tea.”

     Curran stared down at the chopsticks on the napkin in front of him. He was still puzzled on how someone could use these in place of a fork and knife. Dumplings were typically bite sized at the very least, but he had no idea how he was going to eat rice with them. Soon, Xi returned with a metal teapot and two small, porcelain cups. She put the cups down in front of them, pouring them three quarters of the way full with the piping hot, fragrant tea.

     “I will be right back with your soup,” she said.

     Heinwald raised the glass to his lips, lightly blowing to dissipate the steam rising from the cup. He took a small sip, savoring the calming fragrance of the oolong tea. Curran looked pained as he sipped the tea. Clearly he forgot to blow on it before drinking, burning his tongue on the piping hot drink.

     “Hot…” Curran hissed.

     “Try blowing on it before drinking,” Heinwald chuckled, “You’ll need to do that for the soup too.”

     “I know that. I just wasn’t expecting it to be so hot. Tea back where I’m from is usually just warm when served.”

     “It’s probably the metal tea pot. It helps to insulate the drink and keep it warm. Perhaps I’ll have to purchase one in the village. I do adore hot tea.”

     Xi stopped by their table once again, a tray in her hands with a large bowl, two smaller ones, two soup spoons, a plate of cucumber salad, and two empty salad plates. She set the food down on the table, dishing out the hot and sour soup with a ladle. Curran felt slightly relieved that she had brought spoons. Even if it was frowned upon, he would have to use the spoon for their rice dish later. Once she left, Curran pushed some of the cucumbers off of the salad plate and onto his individual one, stabbing them with his chopsticks and bringing them to his mouth. He was surprised that Heinwald ordered a vegetable side dish, and more so that he was actually eating it, but once he tasted it, he understood why. The seasoning on the cucumbers was light, with a touch of spice, but it was clear that their main marinade was vinegar. It was as if he was eating a healthy pickle. The dish didn’t taste bad by any means, but it felt like Heinwald was reverting to his old habits.

     The soup, as the name suggested, was a rich, spicy broth with a tart aftertaste. The chunks of chicken, mushrooms, and egg white added a soft, delicious texture and the broth was just thick enough to leave a savory coating across his palate. Heinwald couldn’t get enough of this delicious cuisine, and as the soup bowl ran dry from refilling their smaller bowls, Heinwald eagerly awaited Xi’s return with their rice and dumplings. She soon after came back with tray in hand. It was laden with three bamboo steamers and a plate piled high with golden yellow fried rice.

     “Sorry for the wait,” she said, clearing off their table to make room for their next course.

     She set down the plate of fried rice, chunks of delicious chicken breast, sweated onions, carrots, and scallions smattered throughout the dish. As she lifted the lid from the first bamboo steamer, a cloud of steam rose from the basin, revealing two fluffy buns, stuffed with sweet, tender pork belly.

     “Enjoy your meal!” she bowed.

     Heinwald happily grabbed one of the bao buns, biting into the fluffy, white exterior. It was perfectly light and soft, complimenting the juicy, seasoned pork inside. Curran took the second bun, shoveling a portion of rice onto this plate with his soupspoon. He decided to taste the rice first, lifting a spoonful of rice to his mouth. It was deliciously fresh, its various ingredients harmonizing with each other, from the tender fried rice, to the juicy chicken, to the flavorful onions.

     Heinwald lifted the lid to the second steamer basket, revealing eight small, round dumplings hiding under the blanket of steam. He plucked one from the basket with his chopsticks, placing it inside his mouth to eat it in one bite. As his teeth pierced the delicate wrapping of the dumpling, a rush of warm, delicious soup flooded his mouth, only making the already juicy pork inside more flavorful.

     “Curran,” he said, swallowing his mouthful of dumpling, “You must try these soup dumplings. They taste divine.”

     Curran took a single chopstick, preparing to stab one to pick it up from the basket, when Heinwald swatted his hand away.

     “What was that for?” Curran grumbled, “I thought you wanted me to try one.”

     “I do, but they’re soup dumplings Curran,” Heinwald scolded, “If you stab it, all of the delicious soup will spill out of it. You’ll miss out on the best part.”

     Heinwald carefully picked up another dumpling, making sure not to break the soft casing, and held it out towards Curran’s mouth.

     “This is the proper way to eat it,” Heinwald said, blushing, “Now, eat it in one bite.”

     Curran locked his lips around the chopsticks, chewing the delicious dumpling. Heinwald’s blush grew deeper as he realized that his chopsticks were between Curran’s lips. If he went back to eating with these, would it be like an indirect kiss?

     “You’re right Heinwald,” Curran smiled, “It is really good. I might have to use the spoon for them though. These chopsticks are pretty hard to get the hang of.”

     Heinwald grabbed another dumpling, stuffing it inside of his own mouth with his chopsticks. For some reason, it tasted even better than the first. The two devoured the rest of the soup dumplings while picking away at the pile of fried rice. At last, Heinwald lifted the lid to the last set of dumplings, the sweet and tender shrimp shumai. They were small and round like the soup dumplings, but small, pink pieces of shrimp stuck out from the top. Heinwald lifted one to his mouth. It was sweet and refreshing, perfect after the richness of the bao buns and soup dumplings. As they finished up their meal, Xi returned to their table to clean up their empty baskets.

     “May I interest you in dessert?” she suggested, “We have delicious azuki manju. A Hinamoto favorite with a bit of Qilin flair.”

     “That sounds wonderful,” Heinwald responded, “We’ll take that to go and the check.”

     “Alright! I will be right back with them! Please come here again for your next date!”

     Heinwald’s face turned bright red. The waitress thought they were on a date? Was this a date?

     “Oh, no we’re just friends,” Curran laughed, “But we definitely will come back.”

     For some reason, hearing Curran say that made Heinwald feel like he had been stabbed through the heart. He knew that they were just friends. He knew that the intention behind their lunch was just to eat before they did their shopping at the market. There was supposedly nothing romantic about it, so why did it hurt that Curran would so quickly assure the waitress that they weren’t dating? Until Xi returned with the check and dessert, Heinwald remained silent. Even the delicious taste of the azuki manju wasn’t cheering him up. As they left the restaurant and proceeded to their grocery shopping in the market, Curran began to notice the decline in Heinwald’s mood.

     “You ok Hein?” he asked, “You haven’t said a word to me since lunch.”

     “What? No I’m fine,” Heinwald replied.

     “You didn’t really think it was a date, did you?”

     “Of course not! The two of us are friends, nothing more.”

     “What’s got you in such a bad mood then?”

     “I… I really don’t know myself…”

     Curran sighed. As they passed through the stalls of the street market, purchasing any fresh goods that piqued their interest, he suddenly came up with an idea. If he remembered all of the ingredients he needed, he was certain he could make something to cheer Heinwald up when they returned to the manor.

***

     Heinwald lay down in his bed, rereading the Qilin novel _The Romance of the Three Kingdoms_ after his and Curran’s trip to the Qilin tribe today. He was grateful that no one questioned his appearance and his belly was stuffed from the dim sum feast at lunch and Curran’s cooking for dinner. Suddenly he heard a knock at the door. He set down his book and walked to his door, opening it to find Curran with a large, vanilla cake, silverware, and two plates in hand. It was a tall, round cake with beautiful white Chantilly crème icing frosting the side and piped across the top. Sweet, fresh strawberries that they purchased earlier were placed delicately atop the dollops of Chantilly, garnishing it gorgeously.

     “I know we ate a lot today,” Curran said, “But did you have room for dessert?”

     Heinwald was speechless. He always had a sweet tooth since he was younger, but he never expected Curran to bake something for him. Pastry required attention to detail and precision, which Heinwald was convinced Curran completely lacked. Perhaps there was more to Curran than what met the eye.

     “That looks beautiful,” Heinwald commented, “Of course I’ll have some.”

     Curran smiled as he walked into Heinwald’s room, setting the cake down on one of the dressers to slice it. The knife cut through the cake easily, revealing three, fluffy layers of sponge with light crème and strawberries sandwiched between them. Heinwald’s mouth watered in anticipation.

     “How much do you want?” Curran asked.

     “Give me a big slice,” Heinwald replied eagerly.

     Curran sliced off about a sixth of the cake, gently sliding it onto a plate and passing it to Heinwald with a fork.

     “Hope you like it,” Curran grinned, “It was kinda hard to hide it from you while the cake was cooling, but I thought you’d enjoy the surprise.”

     “You didn’t have to,” Heinwald blushed, poking his fork into the light sponge of the cake.

     “But I wanted to. You treated me to lunch. I figured it was the least I could do.”

     Heinwald lifted his forkful of cake to his mouth, taking a bite. As the sweet flavor of vanilla and strawberries spread across his palate, he felt transported back to his youth. Until she passed, Heinwald’s mother would always bake him a vanilla cake for his birthday. He could practically hear her singing voice as he continued to eat the delicious dessert.

     _“Joyeuse anniversaire! Joyeuse anniversaire! Joyeuse anniversaire cher Heinwald, joyeuse anniversaire!”_

     Tears leaked from his eyes with each bite of cake, reminding him of a time he felt loved. He could tell Curran baked this cake with just as much care as his mother did, making his heart flutter in his chest.

     “Heinwald, why are you crying?” Curran worried, wiping away his tears, “Is the cake bad?”

     “No,” Heinwald responded, a comforting smile spreading across his face, “It’s delicious.”


	13. La Fête à l'Université

     Curran descended the stairs of the manor, bright and early to prepare breakfast. After their trip to the market, he could finally make dishes with fresh eggs and milk. Each passing day made him feel more at home in Heinwald’s estate. He felt more like a housemate than a prisoner or manservant. As he reached the foyer, Curran noticed a small envelope poking under the front door. He didn’t realize that Heinwald still received mail here. Curiously, he picked it up, reading the return address. To his surprise the letter was from the Caldia Magic Academy, the school where Heinwald attended to learn healing arts. He figured Heinwald would definitely want to see this.

     Curran climbed the staircase, making his way to Heinwald’s room. He gently opened the door, discovering Heinwald fast asleep under the covers of his bed. His glasses lay on the nightstand beside him and his long silver and black hair was strewn wildly across his pillow, rather unkempt looking in comparison to his usual low ponytail. Curran approached his sleeping friend, sitting down next to him on the bed and watching the slow rise and fall of his chest from his slumbering breaths. Gently, he placed his hand on Heinwald’s shoulder, waking him up from his sound sleep.

     “Is breakfast ready?” Heinwald yawned.

     “Not yet,” Curran replied, “But I thought you’d want to see this. You got a letter from Caldia.”

     Heinwald sat up and reached for his glasses, carefully positioning them over the bridge of his nose before accepting the letter from Curran. Even though he had since cut himself off from the world, Caldia still sent him letters as he was an alumnus. He ripped open the envelope, plucking out the folded stationary within. Heinwald unfolded the letter, adjusted his glasses, and read it aloud.

_“Valued Caldia Alumni,_

_You are cordially invited to celebrate the two hundred year anniversary of Caldia Magic Academy on Friday, September 20 th from 5 PM to Midnight. To celebrate this momentous occasion, we are having a “Magical Beast” themed costume contest, student run food stands, a beer and wine garden for adult alumni, and much more. We have also invited special guests to provide entertainment, including Caldia alumnus and famous songstress Lucretia, along with the Harmonia Choir. Costumes are recommended, but not required and you are permitted to bring a guest. We look forward to seeing you._

_-Caldia Alumni Association”_

     “September 20th,” Curran reiterated, “That’s this Friday! Do you want to go?”

     Heinwald sighed, looking down at the letter, “Would that really be wise? With my horns I can at least blend in with Qilin, but I would definitely stand out at Caldia…”

     “Didn’t they say it was a costume party? You wouldn’t even have to cover your wings and tail. You could just say it’s a costume.”

     “Do you think they would buy it? It’s not that I don’t want to go, I’m just… a bit nervous for my former peers to see me like this.”

     “We don’t have to go if you’re really that worried. I just think it would be a good opportunity for you to blow off some steam. The only times you’ve really left the manor were to hunt and buy groceries. You deserve some fun.”

     Heinwald hesitated, balling his hands into fists as he weighed out his options. He did want to go, especially if he could take Curran as a guest. It would be wonderful to catch up with his old friends, colleagues, and professors, but he still feared being ostracized. Then again, if Curran was there with him, socializing, eating, and enjoying the festival, Heinwald began to feel like his appearance wouldn’t matter.

     “You know what,” Heinwald replied, “I’m in.”

***

     The days prior to the festival passed quickly. Before they knew it, it was the 20th, and the two were getting dressed and ready for what was sure to be a fun event. Heinwald looked at himself in the mirror one more time before leaving, gazing at his horns, his scars, his wings, his discolored skin and hair. He truly did look like a beast. He only hoped that his peers would think he was just wearing a realistic costume, remaining unaware that this was now this permanent appearance.

     Heinwald met up with Curran in the hallway, taking a deep breath before they walked out the door. As Caldia was pretty far away, Heinwald figured flying there would be the fastest method of transportation. They proceeded to the forest, finding the clearing for their takeoff. Since they had flown together so many times, the fear of falling had completely disappeared. It began to feel as natural to Heinwald as walking did, perhaps even more natural. They wrapped their arms around each other, preparing to take off. As they floated up into the late afternoon sky, Heinwald tightened his grasp on Curran, soaring through the sea of clouds.

     The path to Caldia was a familiar one, but Heinwald had always taken it by cart or carriage. Getting the opportunity to see the academy from a bird’s eye view granted him a new perspective on his fond memories. The castle-like academy looked tiny from up in the air, the students scurrying below looking like ants swarming around the entrance. Various stands and a beautiful stage had been set up in the quad, and people were beginning to pour into the venue by the hundreds. They landed a few hundred yards off grounds of the academy, just to make sure no one saw them in flight. Heinwald unwrapped his arms and tail from around Curran, straightening out his vest and running his fingers through his ponytail to work out the wind-whipped tangles.

     “Well we’re here,” Heinwald said, “Caldia is straight ahead.”

     “Are you excited?” Curran asked.

     “Excited and nervous.”

     Curran placed his hand gently on Heinwald’s shoulder, easing his frazzled nerves.

     “Don’t worry,” he assured, “We’re going to have a great time.”

     Heinwald took a deep breath as he and Curran approached the academy. The gothic architecture of the building was just as beautiful as he remembered it. A statue of a Welspring Imp, Caldia’s mascot, stood proud in the middle of the quad, gilded with the finest gold and polished for the many returning alumni and current students. Teenage students, faculty, and alumni of all ages flooded the area, chattering with festival food and drinks in their hands. Thankfully, many of these people were dressed up in costumes that made Heinwald’s appearance look normal in comparison. He wiped his brow in relief, turning his attention to the food stands and salivating at the various foods on sale.

     “Curran,” he suggested, “Let’s check out the students’ stands. I would love to see what kinds of food they have for sale.”

     They waded through the crowded quad, making their way to the lines of stands and stalls, staffed by hard working students. Any kind of food they could imagine was being served, from hamburgers, to gyros, to paninis. With so much variety and such reasonable prices, Heinwald was sure he could get a taste of everything. As they searched through the aisles, Heinwald spotted a booth with a particularly long line. He looked up at the sign, which read “Genius Crepes.” Based on the reactions of the people leaving, the crepes looked well received and delicious.

     “Curran,” Heinwald said, “I’m going to get a crepe. Do you want one?”

     “Nah, I’m more in the mood for something savory,” Curran replied, eyeing the empanada stand across the way, “But you can get one for yourself.”

     “Wait that reminds me.”

     Heinwald fished into his pocket, pulling out a coinpurse and handing it to Curran. Inside was a generous amount of rupies, almost enough to give a man who grew up in poverty like Curran whiplash.

     “Take this,” he offered, “You can get whatever you want.”

     “Heinwald, this is too much,” Curran replied, still in shock at the amount of rupies inside.

     “It is but pocket change for me. Go and get yourself some food.”

     Curran reluctantly accepted the coinpurse, hugging Heinwald in thanks. Heinwald blushed at Curran suddenly pulling him into a hug, but those around them seemed to pay them no mind.

     “I’ll meet you back here once I’ve gotten my food,” Curran smiled, “Be right back.”

     Just like that, Curran disappeared into the crowd of people, searching for a stand the piqued his interest. Heinwald turned around, slowly stepping forward as he inched closer to the front of the line. As he got closer, he noticed a team of three students preparing the crepes. A girl with long, blonde hair tied up into pigtails was taking the orders, a boy with a green hat and round glasses was making the crepes, and a Sylvan girl with beige hair covering one of her eyes was filling and garnishing them. He also spied a list of possible toppings written on a chalkboard. It appeared that customers could create their own using any of the available toppings, or order one of the “Signature Genius Crepes” listed below. At long last, he reached the front of the line. The girl with the pigtails smirked cockily as she picked up her pen and notepad to take his order.

     “Welcome to Genius Crepes!” she grinned, “All proceeds go to helping research in our respective departments. Would you care to be a true genius and order one?”

     “Sure,” Heinwald replied, gazing at the list on the chalkboard, “I’ll take one ‘Strawberry Genius’.”

     “Coming right up!”

     She immediately turned to the Sylvan girl, who clearly looked overwhelmed with her decorating.

     “Althemia!” the pigtailed girl barked, “One Strawberry Genius!”

     “I’ll try my best to get it out soon, Ezelith,” Althemia panted, “I’m just waiting on Nicolas to make more crepes…”

     “You can’t rush these things,” Nicolas replied, a look of concentration plastered across his face as he evenly spread the crepe batter across the hot plate.

     “You all certainly look busy,” Heinwald commented, “If I might ask, which departments are you from?”

     “Well, Nicolas is from the Wind Department and Althemia is from Dark,” Ezelith bragged, “But I’m from the best one. I’m a proud Fire mage! And I’m gonna be the second youngest graduate Caldia has ever seen!”

     “Oh?” Heinwald replied, “Do you know much about the youngest graduate?”

     “I heard he was a really gifted healer in the Dark department,” Ezelith sighed, “But he’s certainly not as good as me! That old man is gonna have to make way for the Genius of the Century, Ezelith!”

     Heinwald’s brow twitched. Who was she calling an old man?

     “Young lady,” he growled, “You might want to have more respect for your elders, especially when the one who you want to surpass is right in front of you.”

     Nicolas nearly dropped his spatula.

     “Sir,” he stammered, “You… You’re _the_ Heinwald? Althemia is a huge fan!”

     Althemia’s face turned bright red, “Sh-shut up Nicolas!”

     “Ho?” Ezelith scoffed, “So my competition shows himself. Know this old man! Just because you were the youngest graduate, that doesn’t mean anything! I’m gonna graduate at 16 and then surpass you!”

     Althemia timidly handed Ezelith the finished crepe. It was folded into a beautiful cone with strawberry ice cream, fresh strawberries, chocolate sauce, and whipped crème. Ezelith grabbed a spoon and napkin, handing them to her customer along with the crepe.

     “Anyway,” Ezelith smirked, “Here’s your Strawberry Genius! Please spread the word about our crepes!”

     “Thank you,” Heinwald replied, stepping out of line to eat his crepe.

     He bit into the light, sweet crepe, tearing off a piece of the thin pancake. It had a hint of vanilla that paired well with the sweet, fresh strawberries and rich chocolate. When he looked closer, he noticed the strawberry ice cream had a little face on it with strawberries poking out from the sides to make it resemble a cat. As he enjoyed his crepe, Curran caught up with him, holding a small paper basket with eight round balls inside. They were coated in a thick, brown sauce, mayonnaise, a delicate, green powder, and some thin brown flakes. Several of them had little toothpicks sticking out of them to eat them with and while the smell of them was one Heinwald had never experienced before, it certainly looked tasty.

     “What did you get?” Heinwald wondered.

     “I got this Hinamotan festival food,” Curran replied, “I think they called it takoyaki? It’s like an octopus dumpling. Never had it until today, but gotta admit, it’s pretty damn good.”

     “Let me try one. I’ll give you a bite of my crepe for it.”

     “Sounds fair to me. Just be careful not to burn your mouth. They’re still hot.”

     Curran poked one of the takoyaki with a toothpick, holding it in front of Heinwald’s mouth for him to try. Heinwald blew on it to cool the morsel down before locking his lips around it. Immediately, he covered his mouth with his free hand.

     “HOT!” he cried out.

     While the outside was a warm, edible temperature, the inside of the takoyaki felt molten, nearly burning his tongue. He slowly began to chew as the temperature grew bearable. Just as Curran said, it was delicious. The octopus was tender and notes of ginger and green onion popped across his palate. There were even small, crunchy bits of tempura inside, complimenting the fluffy dumpling perfectly. The creamy mayonnaise and tart okonomi sauce only accentuated the savory, comforting flavor of the street food. He could understand why takoyaki was such a big hit in Hinamoto. Once he swallowed, he held out his crepe to Curran.

     “Now do you want to taste my crepe?” he asked.

     As Curran took a bite of the crepe, Heinwald noticed a dollop of whipped crème from the garnish stuck to the tip of his nose. He shook his head, holding up a napkin to Curran’s face as he chewed.

     “You missed your mouth, idiot,” Heinwald sighed, wiping the whipped crème from Curran’s nose.

     “Oh,” Curran replied, swallowing his mouthful of crepe, “Thanks for getting that for me.”

     “No problem. It would be embarrassing to keep walking around with you having a nose full of whipped crème.”

     “By the way, what do you want to check out now? Didn’t that invitation say something about a costume contest?”

     “I’ll watch it but there’s no way I’m participating. What if they judges asked me to take part of my ‘costume’ off or wanted to examine the ‘craftsmanship?’ It’s too dangerous.”

     “Point taken. Want to still go watch it anyway?”

     “Why not.”

     The two pushed through the crowd of people back to the quad. As they sat down on the well-kept grass, Heinwald noticed a long line of people, mostly students, in costume, queuing to get to the stage. It looked like the contest was about to begin. Just as it was about to start, Heinwald felt a light tap on his shoulder.

     “Excuse me,” a feminine voice said, “Do you mind if I sit next to you?’

     Heinwald turned around to see a woman with long, white hair in an angelic white gown. Her voice and smile were just as heavenly as her attire and any person across Grastaea would know who she was at a glance. Heinwald, however, knew her on a more personal level.

     “Lucretia!” he beamed, standing up to hug her, “It’s been too long! You look incredible.”

     “Long time no see, Heinwald,” she giggled, “I’m surprised you aren’t entering the contest. Your costume looks amazing.”

     Heinwald rubbed the back of his neck, trying to come up with a lie as to why he wasn’t entering.

     “Well…” he fibbed, “I’d rather see one of the current students win. They could use the prize much more than I do.”

     “You’ve always been so generous,” she smirked, “By the way, who’s your friend?”

     Heinwald shook Curran’s shoulder to get his attention, ready to introduce him to his old friend.

     “Curran,” he said, “My old friend from school wanted to meet you.”

     “Sure thing,” Curran replied, standing up from his spot on the quad.

     As soon as he saw that telltale white hair and feathered dress, Curran dropped his food in shock. He was utterly star-struck and almost couldn’t believe that Heinwald was friends with the most famous singer in Grastaea.

     “H-Heinwald,” he stammered, “You’re _friends_ with _the_ Lucretia?”

     “She was an underclassman of mine,” Heinwald informed, “Her first year at Caldia was my last, but as we both practically lived in the library, we became pretty good friends.”

     “Ah, so your companion knows of me?” she blushed, “I’m flattered.”

     Curran bowed politely, “Pleased to meet you, Miss Lucretia. My name is Curran. I’m honored to be in the presence of such a renowned songstress.”

     Lucretia chuckled, offering her hand for Curran to shake, “Lucretia is fine. Anyone who is a friend of Heinwald’s is a friend of mine!”

     Curran blushed as he shook her hand, his massive palm dwarfing her dainty one.

     “I’m surprised you’re in the audience, Lucretia,” Heinwald continued, “Weren’t you going to be performing tonight?”

     “My concert is after the costume contest,” she informed, “So I’m taking my time to enjoy the festival and catch up with old friends. Are you enjoying it so far?”

     “It’s been wonderful just being back at Caldia. I missed this place so much,” Heinwald reminisced.

     Suddenly, the MC for the event, Headmaster Walt himself, took the stage. His beard was braided into two, twisted braids and he wore an over-the-top robe that made him look like a treant.

     “Attention one and all,” he announced, “The costume contest is about to begin!”

     “Hey, Hein,” Curran said, “I’m going to go stop by the beer garden to get some ale. Do you want anything?”

     “No thank you,” Heinwald replied, “I’m not too fond of alcohol. I will take some water though.”

     “Alright. I’ll be right back.”

     As Curran left the quad for the beer garden, Lucretia and Heinwald sat down upon the soft grass, watching as the costumed students, faculty, and alumni took the stage. The first student up was a face Heinwald recognized. It was the very same girl he bought his crepe from, except now, she wore a revealing, feathered outfit complete with fake wings, horns, and bird feet.

     “First up,” Walt introduced, “Representing the Magic Weapons Club in the department of Fire Magic, we have Ezelith as the legendary dragon of regeneration, The Phoenix!”

     The crowd cheered as Ezelith twirled around, showing off all of the beautiful red and orange feathers sewn into her costume.

     “This brings back quite fond memories,” Lucretia ruminated, “By the way, Heinwald, what have you been up to for the past ten years? I haven’t heard much from you since you graduated.”

     Heinwald swallowed hard. He couldn’t exactly tell her that he had been cursed and was trapped inside his own manor for fear of his life.

     “Well…” he lied, “I took over my father’s estate and have been doing independent research.”

     “You always were quite studious. I guess some things never change.”

     “It seems you’ve made quite the name for yourself, Lucretia. I remember when we first met, you were fresh out of the Harmonia Choir and studying the magical properties of song. Now you’re a famous songstress. Must be nice to travel around Grastaea doing what you love for a living.”

     “The singing is wonderful… but I often wish I had a bit of time to myself every so often. I’m so busy, I can’t even find a partner. But look at you, it seems you’ve found quite the beau for yourself.”

     Heinwald blushed beet red, “You… you mean Curran?”

     “You make quite the cute couple,” Lucretia beamed.

     “Oh, no Lucretia… He’s not my boyfriend… He only sees me as a friend.”

     “ _He_ only sees you as a friend? You never mentioned anything about how you feel. Do you see him as just a friend?”

     Heinwald froze, his blush only growing deeper. He averted his eyes as Lucretia leaned into him, poking his reddened cheeks to tease him.

     “You like him, don’t you,” she teased.

     “I…” Heinwald stammered, “I don’t know. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Lucretia. I feel so happy whenever he’s around me, and whenever he gets close to me it feels like my heart is going to jump out of my chest. He’s awakened some sort of strange new feeling inside of me…”

     “Yup. Someone’s in LOOOOVE~!”

     “Shut up, Lucretia!”

     “I’m just teasing you Heinwald.”

     “But… do you really think I’m in love with him? And even if I am, would I have a chance? He’s so handsome and kind… I feel like he’s too good for me… Besides, he doesn’t even see me that way…”

     “I think he’s the perfect fit for you. And he might even be in the same boat as you, feeling love, but having never experienced it, confusing it for friendship alone.”

     “Lucretia… I… I think I am in love with him… By Ilia… what do I do?”

     Lucretia rubbed her chin in thought, snapping her fingers when she came up with an idea.

     “I have a plan!” she suggested, “But you’ll need to stay for my concert.”

     “I was planning on doing that anyway, but what did you have in mind?” he wondered.

     “That’s a secret.”

     “I’m back,” a familiar, manly voice announced, “Did I miss anything?”

     Heinwald turned around to see Curran holding two flagons in his hands: one filled with alcohol and the other with water.

     “Nothing much,” Lucretia replied, “Heinwald and I were just doing a little catching up.”

     “Is the contest still going on?” Curran wondered, sitting down next to Heinwald and handing him his drink.

     “I think they’re going to announce the winner soon,” Heinwald answered.

     They turned their attention to the stage, looking at the line of impressive costumes. Walt approached the center, clearing his throat to gather everyone’s attention.

     “The judges have finished deliberating and we have our winners!” Walt announced, “In third place, we have Sakura of the Dark Magic department for her artistic take on the Hinamoto war-dragon, Marishiten!”

     A girl with violet hair in a boar-like Hinamoto style dress stepped onto the winners’ pedestal, accepting her award. Heinwald could see Ezelith beaming onstage, confident she had won first place.

     “In second,” Walt continued, “We have Ezelith from the Fire Magic department, for her beautifully crafted Phoenix costume!”

     Ezelith’s jaw dropped.

     “WHAT? ONLY SECOND?” she protested, “Who could possibly beat a genius like me?”

     “Well, first place is actually an odd case, young Ezelith,” Walt explained, “Though this person didn’t even enter the competition, the judges were far too impressed at how realistic his costume was and felt it had to be recognized as such. First place goes to alumnus and the youngest graduate on record, Heinwald, for his realistic and accurate depiction of the Elder Dragon Nyarlathotep.”

     Both Heinwald and Ezelith were shocked.

     “Me?” Heinwald asked from the crowd.

     “Yes, Heinwald my boy,” Walt replied happily, “Long time no see! Come up and claim your prize!”

     Curran rested his hand on Heinwald’s shoulder.

     “Go on,” he encouraged.

     Reluctantly, Heinwald stood up from his spot in the quad, garnering “oohs” and “aahs” from the audience as he walked up onstage.

     “Just one look at his costume is evidence enough to warrant his win,” Walt praised, “Look at the beautiful detailing on the wings and tail. He even did special effects makeup to match the patch-like nature of Nyarlathotep’s skin. It’s completely lifelike!”

     Heinwald silently accepted the award. He was grateful that Walt didn’t ask how he made it or ask him to take any of his “costume” off. Still, it almost felt like he was cheating, snatching the victory away from a student who worked hard on her costume.

     “I swear I’ll beat you next time, old man!” Ezelith grumbled from the second place position.

     “Headmaster, if I may ask,” Heinwald wondered, “What is the grand prize?”

     “If a student or teacher had won, it would be a year’s worth of tuition, funding to their respective club, or a raise in their salary. But because you are an alumni, we’ll simply give it to you in cash.”

     “Headmaster, I’m not exactly poor,” Heinwald commented, “May I just take the title and give the grand prize to the young girl who came in second? Not only did I not enter, but I have no need for the prize anyway.”

     The audience was filled with shocked gasps and awws as Ezelith stood there dumbfounded that someone who she viewed as a rival would so easily hand her the prize.

     “What a generous man you are, Heinwald,” Walt chuckled, “You’re still just as kind as you were back when you attended school here. Very well. Miss Ezelith, will you take the tuition or the club funding?”

     “I…” Ezelith stammered, “I suppose my club could use the extra funding… Thanks I guess, old man. But don’t think that this is over! You’re still my eternal rival!”

     “I suppose I’ll take that as gratitude,” Heinwald laughed, “Put the funding to good use, Ezelith.”

     “D-don’t call me by my first name!” she snapped, “Who do you think you are, my dad?*”

***

     Once the stage had been cleared down from the costume contest, staff members quickly set up the risers for the Harmonia Choir. Children in choir uniforms walked up onto the stage, forming their sections in an organized manner. Lucretia and the choir’s conductor, Vixel, soon joined them onstage. The audience roared with applause at the presence of the famous songstress, hollering as she delicately curtsied. She walked up to the microphone as Vixel stood behind her, raising his conductor’s wand to the choir.

     “Thank you all for coming tonight,” Lucretia smiled, “It is an honor to return to my Alma Mater to perform with these talented children. Our first song will be a beautiful ballad, perfect for slow dancing.”

     She looked out to the audience, grinning when she saw Curran and Heinwald’s faces looking up at her onstage.

     “I would like to dedicate this song to an old friend,” she continued, “May it give them the courage to ask that special someone to dance.”

     Lucretia winked before turning to Vixel, the violinist, and the pianist, signaling that she was ready to start singing. Many members of the crowd began to pair up across the quad, slowly dancing as the gentle melody of the song began. Heinwald blushed, hesitantly holding out a hand to Curran.

     “Hey, Curran,” Heinwald started, “It looks like everyone is dancing. If… if it’s not too much to ask, do you want to dance with me?”

     A smile spread across Curran’s face and a chuckle leaked from his mouth. Heinwald felt like he could just die from embarrassment, fearing Curran would reject him, but instead he felt Curran’s arms pull him in close.

     “I would love to,” Curran replied, his blue eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

     Lucretia took a calming breath, closing her eyes as she began to sing the beautiful

tune.

_“Storia senza età,_

_Tra realtà e magia,_

_Uno sguardoe poi_

_Anche se non vuoi,_

_Scorpri l’armonia.”_

The choir joined in, harmonizing with Lucretia’s beautiful voice. As the song progressed, Curran led Heinwald to the dance floor, slowly guiding him in dance as his hand settled around his hips. Heinwald gazed into Curran’s eyes, losing himself in that sparkling, deep blue of his irises. The rest of the party melted away. It felt like it was just him and Curran, dancing under the moonlight, their bodies almost touching if not for the thin fabric of their clothes.

_“La complicità,_

_Non si sa perché,_

_Li travolgerà,_

_E sorprendera,_

_La Bestia insieme a Bella._

_Nasce un sogno in te,_

_Pensi solo a lei,_

_Se ti perdirai,_

_Dentro gli occhi suoi,_

_Scorpirai chi sei!”_

As the song reached the swell of the bridge, Curran took cues from the other dancers, spinning Heinwald around into a dip, supporting him so he wouldn’t fall backwards. Heinwald followed Curran’s careful lead, allowing him to guide him as they danced into the night. His heart pounded in his throat. The more they danced, letting the music move them, the more Heinwald realized how he really felt. He truly was in love with Curran.

_“Storia di magia,_

_Notte senza età,_

_Tutto ciò che vuoi,_

_Tutto ciô che sai,_

_Si transformerà!_

_Splende la realtà,_

_Come il sole adesso,_

_Storia di magia,_

_Dolce melodia,_

_La Bestia insieme a Bella!”_

     The melody slowed, but the beating of Heinwald’s heart only grew faster. He felt Curran’s face drifting closer to his, closing his eyes as he began to feel the warmth of Curran’s lips press against his. Heinwald relaxed into the comfort and warmth, graciously accepting the kiss. He didn’t want this moment to end. Heinwald withdrew his lips breathlessly, the same blush that spread across his cheeks was also apparent on Curran’s, a smile curling up from his lips. Tears of joy spilt from Heinwald’s eyes. He was so happily in love.

_“Storia di magia_

_Dolce melodia,_

_La Bestia insieme a Bella!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This is a little seiyuu joke peppered in for my Fate followers  
> Ezelith - Ueda Kana - Tohsaka Rin  
> Heinwald - Hayami Sho - Tohsaka Tokiomi (Rin's dad)  
> Also, here's the link to the song Lucretia sings  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NEDMZ2MJN3c


	14. L'Amour Entre les Hommes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut begins here

     Heinwald rolled over in his bed, staring at the door to his room in the middle of the night. He couldn’t sleep a wink. He felt like he could still feel the warm flush of Curran’s lips against his, that sweet intimacy that he never wanted to end. The more he reminisced on that lingering sensation, the more his mind began to wander. He had never felt romantic love in his life before. Heinwald had experienced familial love for his mother and sister, and passion for his field of study, but his feelings for Curran were on a completely different level. His cheeks flushed, his heart pounded, his body felt like it was on fire.

     “Gretchen,” he mumbled, “What do I do… I love him so much…”

     He lay awake under the covers of his bed until the bright light of the morning sun broke through the glass of his window. Heinwald groaned, rubbing his eyes as he stirred from his sleepless night. He reached for his glasses, positioning them over the bridge of his nose to ease the blurriness of his tired eyes. A yawn leaked from his mouth as he crawled out of bed, stumbling to his dresser to change out of his nightgown.

     Heinwald tugged the silk fabric of his pajamas off of his body, examining his own half-nude form in his mirror. In comparison to Curran’s chiseled abs, taut pectorals, and bulging biceps, Heinwald’s body paled in comparison. He was slender to the point of being scrawny, his ribs poking out from under his pale skin. The gray patches of skin that extended from his collarbone to the end of his right hand, across the right side of his face, and crawled up to the knee of his left leg were coarse and unsightly, only accentuated by the almost sickly pale of the rest of his body. His unsightly wings and barbed horns only made him feel more ugly, an already pathetic and unattractive man made hideous by these monstrous qualities.

     “Revolting…” he sighed, “What could Curran possibly see in me?”

     He shook his head, pulling out his clothes to get dressed for the day. Because of his wings and tail, all of his shirts and pants had holes cut out in the back for him to slide them through. Changing clothes was difficult for him at first, but after ten years of the same morning routine, Heinwald had gotten used to it. He slid his arms into his sleeves, flexing his wings to get them through the hole in the back of his shirt. Carefully, he tied his cravat, straightening it before pulling his hair out from under the collar of his shirt. He picked up his brush, detangling the long black and silver strands. Heinwald’s hair was always on the long side, but as he hadn’t cut his hair in ten years, it now reached his hips. He picked up a ribbon, tying his hair back into a low ponytail, and buttoned up his vest.

     Even when fully dressed in the finest garments of a nobleman, every time Heinwald looked in the mirror, a hideous beast stared back. He had looked this way for almost half of his life, but the shock of seeing his terrifying form never waned. Heinwald straightened out his clothes one last time before leaving the room. As soon as he opened the door, he could already smell something delicious cooking downstairs. He hurried down to the kitchen to see Curran feverishly whisking a bowl sitting atop a double boiler. Inquisitively, Heinwald walked up behind him, watching with intrigue as Curran splashed a bit of melted butter into the creamy, yellow sauce within the bowl, incorporating it skillfully.

     “What are you making?” Heinwald wondered.

     “Oh, Heinwald, you’re up,” Curran replied, “I just figured I might as well make a nice egg dish with the rest of the eggs from our market trip. Making some eggs benedict.”

   “I didn’t even know you knew how to make that.”

     “I didn’t, but I found a cookbook in one of the cabinets with the recipe and it looked good, so I figured I’d try it out.”

     “Do you need any help?”

     “I think I should be fine. Once I finish the sauce I just gotta poach some eggs and toast some bread. That’s easy.”

     “Ah, I see… well I look forward to breakfast then.”

     Heinwald stayed in the kitchen as Curran cooked. Just being nearby Curran made his heart flutter. He blushed when Curran looked over to him, as Curran noticed the dark circles underneath Heinwald’s eyes.

     “Did you sleep alright?” Curran asked.

     “Not really…” Heinwald sighed, “I… I couldn’t fall asleep. My heart was pounding all night.”

     “Oh… from what happened last night?”

     “Yeah…”

     Curran rubbed the back of his neck, sitting the now finished sauce aside.

     “I’m really sorry about that by the way,” he apologized, “About what happened yesterday at the festival.”

     “Sorry?” Heinwald wondered, “Why would you be sorry?”

     “I kissed you. I didn’t even ask, I just… I guess I got swept up by the moment. I was having so much fun dancing with you and you looked so cute…”

     Heinwald blushed. Curran thought he was cute?

     “Anyway, I’m sorry if I forced myself on you,” Curran continued, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

     “But you didn’t…” Heinwald assured, his blush only growing deeper, “I… I really liked it.”

     “So… you weren’t upset that I kissed you?”

     “I was overjoyed.”

     Curran’s face reddened, now matching Heinwald’s flustered blush. Heinwald moved closer, grabbing onto Curran’s hand and looking into his eyes.

     “Curran,” Heinwald said, “If its ok with you, can we kiss again?”

     Curran responded with his lips, gently pressing them against Heinwald’s and pulling him close. Heinwald closed his eyes, allowing himself to be swept away by Curran’s kiss. He felt Curran’s wet tongue press into his lips, parting them slightly to let his tongue explore his mouth. Heinwald mewled as their tongues intertwined, growing short of breath as the intensity of their kiss increased. Curran withdrew his lips, allowing Heinwald to catch his breath. Heinwald’s face was beet red and his lips were still flushed and slick with saliva. Shyly, Heinwald ran a finger over his lower lip, averting his gaze in bashfulness.

     “I liked that,” Heinwald whispered, “I like kissing you Curran.”

     Curran chuckled, “I like kissing you too. You’re so cute.”

     “No need to lie to me. You’d be crazy to think someone who looks like me is cute.”

     “Well then all be crazy.”

     Heinwald covered his mouth, laughing at Curran’s slip-up

     “It’s ‘call me crazy,’ Curran,” he giggled.

     “That’s what I get for trying to be smooth…” Curran sighed, “You can go sit down in the dining room. I’ll have breakfast ready soon.”

     He kissed Heinwald chastely on the cheek before getting back to work. Heinwald headed to the table, sitting down at the head. He kept peeking back into the kitchen, watching Curran plate up their delicious breakfast, pouring the creamy hollandaise sauce onto the eggs and dusting them with some smoked paprika. Curran lifted up the plates and grabbed some silverware, carrying them into the dining room. Heinwald’s face lit up at the beautiful egg dish. From the rich yellow sauce to the poached egg, sweet, cured ham, all the way to the perfectly toasted and buttered bread, it looked and smelled absolutely incredible.

     “Dig in,” Curran said.

     Heinwald cut into the soft egg, making the bright, golden yolk spill out onto the ham and bread. He sliced off a piece, gathering all of the components onto one forkful before lifting it to his mouth. The taste of the eggs benedict was outstanding. The creamy hollandaise had a bright pop of acidity from the fresh squeezed lemon juice that Curran added to the mixture and the soft, poached egg melted in Heinwald’s mouth. The ham provided just the right about of salt and the toasted bread finished the dish with a nice, crunchy texture.

     “Your cooking is so delicious Curran,” Heinwald beamed, cutting himself another piece of eggs benedict.

     “Glad you like it,” Curran replied.

     As they ate, Heinwald couldn’t keep his eyes off of Curran. He was so enamored that anything and everything Curran did made his heart pound. From the way he blinked, making his blonde lashes flutter to the small flexing of his arm whenever he lifted his fork to eat. Heinwald picked at the rest of his food. He wanted Curran to hurry up and finish eating as soon as possible.

   Heinwald heard the clinking of Curran’s silverware hitting his plate and his chair skidding back as he stood up. Curran took Heinwald’s plate as well, carrying it to the sink to wash the now empty platters. Heinwald followed behind him, wrapping his arms around him from behind as he washed the dishes.

     “Aren’t you affectionate today,” Curran teased.

     “I’ve just come to like being close to you,” Heinwald replied.

     Curran chuckled, holding up a now clean plate. Since he could see his and Heinwald’s faces reflecting off of the surface, he knew the dish was clean. Heinwald’s grip around Curran’s waist tightened as he buried his face in his shoulder blade.

     “Curran,” Heinwald said, “I want to kiss you some more.”

     Curran set the plate down, turning around to stroke Heinwald’s cheek with his now free hand. The pale skin on the left side of Heinwald’s face was warm and soft to the touch, sensitive enough to make him nuzzle into the caress of Curran’s hand. His hand glided into his hair, intertwining between the silvery black strands while he pulled Heinwald close. Heinwald’s lips instinctively parted in anticipation, welcoming the warm press of Curran’s lips. This time, Heinwald took the initiative of sliding his tongue into Curran’s mouth, biting down softly into Curran’s lip with his fangs. Curran’s hands began to wander, trailing from Heinwald’s long hair to his slender waist, landing at the curve of his hips. Heinwald yelped as Curran’s strong hand squeezed down on the tender flesh of his ass, making Heinwald’s pants grow tight and his groin become sweltering with heat and arousal. This was bad. Kissing felt like bliss, but if this continued, Heinwald feared he would be wandering into unknown territory, losing himself to his own lust. He withdrew his tongue from Curran’s mouth, slowly backing away in embarrassment.

     “Um, Curran… I…” Heinwald stammered, “I’m not feeling well… I’m going to my room…”

     Before Curran could get a word in, Heinwald retreated upstairs with his tail between his legs. He shook his head and sighed.

     “What’s gotten into him?” he wondered.

     Heinwald rushed into his room, closing the door behind him. He slunk down against the polished wood of his door, his heart still pounding violently in his chest. Heinwald buried his face in his hands, his cheeks flushing as red as cherries.

     “I can’t believe I got hard…” he lamented, “He probably thinks I’m a pervert now… Who gets an erection from kissing?”

     Humiliation, lust, and fear clouded his mind. Of course Heinwald had been aroused before. But this was far different from those hormonal or “no-reason” erections of his youth. This was the first time Heinwald had ever felt desire for another human being. It intrigued him, but it also frightened him. He had so been sheltered for most of his life that all he knew about sex was that it was an action performed between a man and a woman to reproduce. He hadn’t the slightest idea about love between two men. As a proud researcher, he almost felt ashamed at how in the dark he was about this topic, especially with his now obvious sexual attraction towards Curran. If only he could ask Gretchen or his mother for advice. Though both of them were women, their compassion could have definitely been a balm for his confusion. Suddenly, a memory from his youth hit him, as if Gretchen herself was attempting to teach him what he needed to know.

***

     Heinwald opened up the door to Gretchen’s room, a platter of tea and cookies in his hands. She nervously sat upright in her bed, shoving the book she was reading under her pillow.

     “He-Heinwald,” she stammered, “What brings you in here?”

     “Mother and I made tea and cookies,” Heinwald smiled, walking up to her bed and setting down the tray, “Do you want to eat them with me?”

   “Oh. Sure, Heinwald.”

     She ruffled her little brother’s long black hair, occasionally glancing back to the book still peeking out from under her pillow.

     “Gretchen,” Heinwald asked inquisitively, “What was that book you were reading earlier?”

   Gretchen froze. Heinwald was still a young boy, no more than eight years old. There was no way she could possibly tell him what the book was really about.

     “It’s…” she choked, “A romance novel…”

     “Can I read it?” Heinwald beamed.

     “NO!”

     Tears started to form at the corners of his eyes. Perhaps she was a bit too harsh, but she knew that there was no way she could let Heinwald know of type of literature she was reading. Describing the genre as “romance” was a huge stretch, but it was the closest she could think of lest she sully her younger brother’s innocent mind.

     “But…” Heinwald sniffed, “But I love books…”

     She patted Heinwald on the head, wiping his tears to comfort him.

     “Well, you’re a bit too young to read it,” she explained, “I found it at the local bookstore, and it’s a genre that’s popular with girls in Hinamoto, but it’s not suitable for kids.”

     “Why not?” Heinwald pouted.

     Gretchen blushed. While she adored the genre, it was definitely a guilty pleasure that she should not expose her brother to. Not for the fact that the romance in the novel was between two men, but because it described their sexual acts in excruciating detail. Heinwald was far too young to learn about pornography, straight or gay. She shook her head, trying her hardest to skate around the novel’s topic while still humoring her brother’s curiosity.

     “It…” she elaborated, “It talks about the most wholesome kind of love in existence, but father wouldn’t want you reading it. His mind remains closed to the most beautiful love out there: the love between men.”

     “The love between men?” Heinwald wondered, “So are the boys in the novel really good friends?”

     “They are much more than that, Heinwald. They love each other like a prince would love a princess in one of the storybooks mother reads you.”

     “Why does father hate that? Is it wrong for two men to love each other?”

     “Not at all! He just likes to cling to the outdated belief that only a man and a woman can love each other.”

     “Gretchen… now I really want to read it! I’ve only ever seen love stories between a man and a woman! I wanna read about the love between men!”

     Her plan completely backfired. It served her right for letting her own personal tastes influence her explanation. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to call it disgusting in an attempt to discourage Heinwald’s interest. Doing so would hurt her more than it would dissuade Heinwald.

     “I suppose I’ll let you read it…” she sighed.

     “Really?” Heinwald beamed.

     “But only when you’re old enough! Until you’re an adult, you have to promise me that you’ll never read these books, ok?”

     “Ok. I promise.”

***

     Heinwald slowly turned the key to unlock the door to Gretchen’s room. Seeing her empty bed coated in dust and cobwebs still haunted him to this day. He hadn’t been in this room since he found her body in the closet, the image of her lifeless corpse dangling from a noose still seared into his memory like a brand upon a cow’s hide. Heinwald gathered his courage, trying to shake the dark memories from his thoughts. He only hoped that Gretchen didn’t keep her stash of books on the “love between men” in her closet. His heart couldn’t handle looking in there.

     He began looking through her cabinets and drawers, shuffling aside her old clothes and cosmetics. It felt wrong, looking through the possessions of his long deceased sister, but she did promise to let him read her books when he was old enough. Heinwald shut the drawer of her dresser, deciding to check underneath her bed. Rats scurried out from under the mattress, making him jump back in shock, but amidst the dust and cobwebs, he found the mother load: a box full of books. The label across the top read “BL collection: do not touch.” Hesitantly, Heinwald pulled the box out from under the bed, sneaking it out of her room and back to his own.

     Once he had locked the door behind him, he opened up the box, discovering a treasure trove of novels; all with pictures of two men holding each other close across the cover. While some of the books were the standard novel format, others were graphic novels, depicting the story within primarily with images. The format of the graphic novels was alien to him, the story within reading from right to left in accordance with the alphabet of Hinamoto. Fortunately, all of these works had been translated to the common tongue of Grastaea, so even with the Hinamotan format, Heinwald would still be able to understand its contents. He plucked one of the standard novels from the collection, reading the title to himself.

     “Boku no Seikishi?” he wondered, “Strange title.”

     He flipped the novel over, reading the description to see if the story within could entertain him.

     “Hayato is the heir to the Ox clan of Hinamoto,” he read to himself, “However, his life as a respected heir is flipped upside down when he is kidnapped by pirates and sold as a slave in Alberia. He is tormented by his captors and fears what will become of him in his new life as a slave, but upon landing in Alberia, he is rescued by a Paladyn by the name of Klaus. What will become of Hayato? Will he ever return home? Or will he find a new home with his knight in shining armor?”

     Heinwald turned the book around. Why did he have a bad feeling about this? It certainly wasn’t the type of literature he would normally read and the rest of the books didn’t look much better, but this was the only clue he had to educate himself. Hesitantly, he opened up the book, beginning to read. He wasn’t sure if it was just a bad translation, but the writing was far from superb and it threw around terminology that he had never encountered in any other book he had read before.

     He continued reading the novel into the later hours of the evening. Despite the poor writing, the novel was strangely addictive. He wanted to find out more about Hayato and his growing relationship with Klaus. After devouring about half of the novel’s contents, he finally reached the part that would answer his questions about “love between men;” the mechanics behind two men having sexual intercourse. He swallowed hard as he turned the page.

_Klaus pushed Hayato down into his soft bed, forcing their lips together as Hayato whimpered beneath him. Hayato squirmed under Klaus’ touch, his hips shaking as he felt his penis growing hard._

_“K-Klaus-sama…” Hayato cried out, “I… I can’t wait anymore. Make me your wife!”_

_“Hayato-kun…” Klaus growled._

_He slid his manly hand into Hayato’s pants, grabbing his penis. Hayato whimpered as Klaus squeezed his small dick. His tiny, shota dick twitched in Klaus’ hand, squirting out drops of pre-cum with each stroke._

_“You seem to be feeling it, Hayato-kun,” Klaus whispered._

_“I want to see yours, Klaus-sama,” Hayato said, twitching and moaning with each stroke._

_Klaus pulled down his pants, showing off his giant, Paladyn penis. So the rumors of Hinamoto were true: Alberian men had really big dicks._

_“Ah… your dick is huge, Klaus-sama,” Hayato said, kissing the huge penis in front of him, “Are you going to put this inside of me and make me your woman?”_

_“Yes, Hayato. Now suck on it to show your appreciation,” Klaus ordered._

_Hayato opened his mouth wide, swallowing the entire penis down his throat. It was warm and thick and salty. He could feel the big dick twitching inside of his throat-pussy. Klaus grunted as he shoved Hayato’s face down on his dick, cumming his hot, steamy cum into his mouth. Hayato happily swallowed every drop of the bitter man-juice, hearts appearing in his eyes._

_“Your semen is delicious, Klaus-sama,” Hayato panted, “I want to drink more of your man-milk~”_

_Klaus pulled his dick out of Hayato’s mouth, flipping Hayato over and squeezing his plump ass. He spread the soft cheeks apart to reveal his cute, pink asshole._

_“How about you drink it with your lower mouth, Hayato-kun,” Klaus said, “I’m going to shove my big penis into your ass-pussy.”_

_“Please be gentle, Klaus-sama,” Hayato begged, “It’s my first time.”_

_Klaus shoved his big dick into Hayato’s tight ass-pussy, making Hayato scream from the huge penis shoving inside of him. He could feel himself becoming Klaus’ woman, his ass griping around the giant dick as if that was where it was meant to be._

Heinwald’s cheeks went bright red at the contents of this novel. He couldn’t believe his sister was reading this. More so, he was surprised at the way the men addressed each other and still puzzled at the mechanics behind sex between men. He fidgeted, his half hard cock twitching in his pants.

     “So, Curran would be putting his… inside of my…” he stumbled, “Isn’t it dirty? Wouldn’t it hurt? Is this… is this really how two men have sex?”

     Suddenly, he heard a knock at his door. He dog-eared the book and set it down to go answer it. Heinwald opened the door to find Curran with a bowl of piping hot soup and a spoon in his hands.

     “I know you said you weren’t really feeling that well earlier,” he said, “So I made you some chicken noodle soup to help you feel better.”

     “How kind of you,” Heinwald blushed.

     Curran pressed his forehead against Heinwald’s, making Heinwald’s blush only more apparent.

     “You don’t feel feverish,” Curran commented, “But it’s probably best for you to get bed-rest.”

     Curran guided Heinwald to his bed, tucking him into the sheets to ensure his comfort. He dipped the spoon into the golden broth, picking up juicy chunks of chicken, thin, homemade noodles, and fresh carrots. Curran gently blew on the spoonful of soup, cooling it down before holding it out to Heinwald’s mouth.

     “Open wide,” he said.

     “I can feed myself Curran,” Heinwald retorted.

     “You said you were sick. Let me take care of you, so you can focus on feeling better.”

     Heinwald reluctantly opened his mouth, allowing Curran to slide the spoonful of soup inside. The chicken noodle soup was light and savory, the soft noodles melting in his mouth and the carrots adding a touch of sweetness.

     “You’re too kind to me, Curran,” Heinwald sighed, swallowing the mouthful of soup.

     “You deserve it,” Curran replied, raising another spoonful of soup to Heinwald’s mouth, “After all you’ve been through, offering you a bit of compassion is the least I can do.”

     Heinwald gripped at his sheets. He was beginning to feel like Curran was too good for him. Not only was he handsome, but he was also an amazing cook, a hard worker, and had a tender soul who put the well-being of others before himself. He almost felt like he was depriving someone else of the ideal partner, greedily hoarding him in his manor.

   “Umm, Curran,” he said, “What am I to you?”

     “What do you mean?” Curran wondered.

     “What do you see me as? A boss? A friend? A lover? We kissed… We’ve kissed a lot… But I’m scared, Curran. I’m scared that I’m not good enough to be someone you care about…”

     Curran gently kissed Heinwald’s forehead, stroking his hair to calm his nerves.

     “If I’m being honest,” Curran confessed, “I don’t think I could possibly find a word that could describe what you mean to me. I want to take care of you. I want to see you smiling, happy, with a reason to live other than regret and sorrow. I’ve had many male friends and female partners in the past, but I can’t even compare the relationship I had with them to the one I have with you. I respect you more than a boss, I want to surpass the boundaries of friendship with you, but I’ve never been in love with a guy before, so I don’t know for myself if we’re lovers.”

     Hearing Curran say that he didn’t know if he would consider Heinwald a lover was a low blow, a punch to the gut that made his heart sink.

     “But I do know one thing for sure,” Curran continued, “I’m happy being with you. I’m happy seeing you happy. I’ll be whatever you want me to be. So I don’t think I can call you a boss, a friend, a lover… Because to me, you’re just Heinwald.”

     Heinwald pulled the sheets up to his face. It felt like he was falling more in love with Curran with each word he said, with every kind gesture he did, with each passing moment.

     “Curran,” he breathed, “Does kissing me… make you happy?”

     “Of course it does,” Curran replied genuinely.

     He chastely kissed Heinwald’s soft lips, the salty taste of the chicken noodle soup still lingering in his mouth. Heinwald leaned back into his bed, his mind wandering to the passages he read earlier from his sister’s book. He loved kissing, but he wouldn’t mind if Curran climbed on top of him, sating his carnal desires much like what he read. Curran pulled away, looking down at Heinwald now comfortable in his bed.

     “Do you want me to keep feeding you?” he asked, “Maybe I can read you something. How about this book?”

     Heinwald’s eyes bulged in fear as Curran reached for his sister’s novel.

   “Wait!” Heinwald yelled, “Not _that_ book!”

     It was too late. Curran had already opened the book to the page Heinwald had dog-eared for later, the uncensored erotica that he almost felt shame for getting hard to. Curran began to chuckle as he scanned the passage, making Heinwald wince in guilt.

     “Didn’t know you liked smut, Heinwald,” he laughed.

     “Sh-shut up!” Heinwald blushed, “It’s my sister’s… she said I could read it when I was old enough…”

     “Nothing to be ashamed of. I love reading porn. But by Ilia it’s clear this author has never had sex before…”

     “What… what do you mean? I thought you said you’ve never had a male partner before.”

     “Yeah, but even with a girl, you have to at least prepare your partner first, especially if you’re doing anal. Anal sex without lubrication and preparation is quite literally a pain in the ass for both parties.”

     “So it’s inaccurate…”

     “Laughably so. Who the hell can deep-throat a huge dick without any experience?”

     Heinwald’s heart sunk. So much for his “research…” If anything, he felt even more confused about love between men now.

     “At least it provides a good laugh,” Curran commented, “Next time we go out, maybe we can stop by the adult section of a library and pick out some porn written by an author who actually knows what they’re talking about. I take it you’re into man on man stuff, right?”

     Heinwald hesitated before answering, “…Yeah… You don’t think it’s weird, right?”

     “Why would I? Who am I to judge your sexual preference? Especially since you always act so cute whenever we kiss.”

     Heinwald covered up his blushing face with his hands. Curran was an expert at making him feel flustered. Perhaps it was just his own lack of experience, but whenever Curran said something flirtatious or complimentary, Heinwald felt as if his heart was about to burst.

     “Well, I guess I’ll leave you be,” Curran smiled, “Enjoy the rest of your soup.”

     Curran gave Heinwald one last kiss on his cheek before leaving the room, allowing him some privacy. Heinwald buried his face in his pillow. He was so happy that Curran accepted him for who he was. Even if he knew little about romance and sex, he wanted to learn. He wanted Curran to teach him. Heinwald lifted the covers, looking at his half-hard member starting to tent under his pants.

     “Curran…” he sighed, “What are you doing to me?”

     He slid his pants down to his ankles, wrapping his fist around his cock and beginning to slowly stroke it. It hardened in his hand, twitching as he imagined Curran pushing him onto the bed, having his way with his body. He recalled that sweet feeling of joy from the first time they kissed, that moment that made him feel alive, that made him feel human.

     “Curran…” he panted.

     His strokes grew faster and his breathing became erratic. His mind wandered, his imagination going wild as he fantasized about Curran’s hand around his cock, Curran’s lips pressed into his, Curran’s warmth surrounding him. He wanted Curran to unravel him, to show him the pleasure of love. Heinwald would gladly give Curran his innocence. He wanted to know. He wanted to feel the ecstasy of his body becoming one with Curran’s.

     “Curran…” he cried out.

     Heinwald could feel himself getting close to his orgasm, but he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to stay in this realm of fantasy, to believe that the passion and love he had for Curran was mutual. But how could Curran ever love someone who looked like him? How could Curran love a monster? Tears began to pour from his eyes. He was terrified that his love was futile, that Curran would look at him in disgust for wanting to have sex with him. He didn’t want to be alone anymore, not after Curran had shown him the joy of being in love.

     “Curran!” he screamed.

     His cock erupted, the sweet release of orgasm washing over him as jizz spilt all over his hand and clothed stomach. Heinwald looked down at his hand in shame. There was no going back. He couldn’t deny his feelings for a moment longer, and he was overcome with the fear that the road he chose to walk would lead to a dead end. Heinwald wanted to be loved. He wanted to be loved by Curran and no one else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God writing that excerpt from Gretchen's erotic novel was painful... I wanted to try to make it as cringy and unrealistic as possible for comedy's sake, but JEEBUS I FEEL DEAD INSIDE  
> At least the little bit of Hein masturbating at the end is a bit of a palate cleanser where I could finally use my own writing style for smut again...


	15. Le Coup de Foudre

     Heinwald gazed out of the window to his bedroom, dark clouds forming across the horizon. Even in the gray, dismal weather, he still noticed Curran hard at work outside, harvesting the now ripe vegetables from their garden out back. As he opened the window, the chill of wind and mist whipped against his skin, making him shiver from the sudden cold. Winter was fast approaching. Curran looked up from the damp garden, mud caking his boots and sweat beading at his brow.

     “Aren’t you cold out there?” Heinwald shouted down to him.

     “I’ll be fine,” Curran dismissed, heaving the fresh vegetables over his shoulder, “Gotta harvest these before the chill makes ‘em rot.”

     Heinwald gazed at the piles of fresh veggies Curran had harvested. Carrots, squash, pumpkin; all sorts of sweet, hearty vegetables that would certainly make a perfect winter stew.

     “Curran,” Heinwald offered, “How about you take a break. Come inside and I’ll make you some tea.”

     Curran set down his gardening tools, looking at his bountiful harvest.

     “You know, I think I’ll take you up on that,” Curran replied, “I could go for a nice, warm drink. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

     Heinwald closed his window and rushed downstairs, welcoming Curran inside. His skin was cold to the touch from the frigid air and his nose was flushed red. Heinwald gently kissed him, hoping to warm Curran up if only slightly.

     “I’ll go start on the tea,” Heinwald said, heading for the kitchen.

     Curran followed him, carrying an armful of vegetables to store in the icebox. The two wedged into the pantry, Curran setting down his harvest and Heinwald perusing the tea leaves. He plucked out a small wooden box from his collection, smelling the fragrant tea within. Heinwald left the pantry and proceeded to the sink, filling up a kettle with water before bringing it to a boil on the stove. As he waited for the water to boil, Curran continued to bring in more vegetables from outside. Steam began to rise from the kettle, and Heinwald transferred the hot water into two teacups, filling two infusers with his tea blend and letting them steep. He waited patiently for the tea to be ready, watching as a cloud of tea infused into the hot water in the cup. Once the tea had a rich, uniform color, he pulled out the infusers and brought the tea over to the dining room, where Curran was now waiting for him.

     “Care for some honey or sugar?” Heinwald asked.

     “Nah, I’m fine with drinking it straight,” Curran replied, blowing on the steaming tea.

     “Well then, enjoy. Drink it while it’s still hot.”

     Curran took a sip of the tea, a warm, floral taste spreading across his palate. It was light, but still satisfying, and the tea’s aftertaste of rose was delightfully fragrant.

     “This tea is great!” Curran beamed, “What kind is it?”

     “It’s a blend of rose and Darjeeling,” Heinwald responded, “My mother used to love this tea. The blend is a product of her hometown, so to this day, I have very little of it left, but it is one of my favorites as well.”

     “Damn, you didn’t have to waste it on me… Especially since it’s so rare and precious to you.”

     “But I wanted to share it with you. Good tea tastes even better when you share it with someone special.”

     “Thanks for sharing it with me, Heinwald.”

     The two continued to sip at their warm tea, draining the cups until nothing but stray tealeaves lined the bottom. Curran picked up his cup, beginning to carry it to the sink when suddenly Heinwald reached out to him.

     “Wait,” he said, “Before you wash your cup, want me to read your tealeaves?”

     “Reading tealeaves?” Curran wondered, “Are you a psychic or something?”

     “I took a class on divination during my time at Caldia. My reading may not be as accurate as a professional’s but it’s still fun to do at the very least.”

     “Why not. Go ahead and read ‘em.”

     Heinwald looked into the bottom of Curran’s cup, trying to discern symbols hidden within the tealeaves. The one that immediately stood out was a small heart in the middle of the cup.

     “Well, what do you see?” Curran asked.

     “The heart…” Heinwald replied, “It signifies good things to come in your future.”

     “Good things to come? Pretty vague, but I’ll take it. Do you know what kind of good things?”

     “Let me keep looking.”

     Heinwald turned the cup around, continuing to search the leaves. He nearly gasped at the next symbol he found: the ring. This symbol denoted marriage, and when paired with the heart, it would be a happy, and long lasting one. The final symbol Heinwald discovered almost made him drop the cup. If the ring was accompanied by a letter of the alphabet, it would represent the initial of one’s future fiancé: and there was no doubting it. The letter was clearly an H.

     “Did you find anything else?” Curran wondered.

     “Umm…” Heinwald blushed, “There… there are a few spots around the heart… That means wealth… So maybe we’ll find some hidden treasure on our next hunt?”

     “That’s pretty cool! I’ll have to keep my eyes peeled next time we go hunting then!”

     Heinwald was too embarrassed to tell Curran the truth. He couldn’t possibly say that Curran would be married in the near future, married to someone whose name began with the letter H no less. Even if it was what he really saw, Curran would surely think Heinwald was pulling his leg.

     “I… I’m done reading your leaves…” Heinwald stammered, “You can go wash it out if you want.”

     “You want me to wash yours too?” Curran offered, “Or did you want to read your own fortune?”

     “Fortunes that you read for yourself are typically more biased and therefore less accurate, but I might as well see what my future holds for me.”

     Heinwald looked into his cup, hoping for a similar good fortune like Curran’s. Color drained from his face as soon as he saw what was lying at the bottom of his cup. There was only one symbol present in the tealeaves, and it was almost so clear-cut that it looked as if someone had arranged his leaves in that pattern while he wasn’t looking. The symbol depicted in the tealeaves… was the hourglass… a symbol of imminent danger. He swallowed hard, trying as best he could to find another indication of what would become of him. There was no fox, so no betrayal, no knife so no sign of fighting, no kettle so no mention of death… but seeing the hourglass by itself was haunting nonetheless. Heinwald only hoped that his reading was inaccurate, or if danger was in his future, he hoped he could at least have a bit more time, and that his fate wouldn’t bring suffering to Curran as well. Curran soon returned to pick up Heinwald’s cup.

     “Did you see anything nice in your future?” he asked.

     “N-nothing special,” Heinwald fibbed.

     “Ah, that’s a shame… I’ll go clean this out for you then. By the way, I’m thinking about making something with all of the fresh veggies we got from the garden for dinner tonight. Does a pumpkin bisque sound good to you?”

     “Yeah… That sounds great…”

     Heinwald stood up from his chair, still ruminating on the ominous fortune in his teacup. As he watched Curran wash the delicate porcelain of the teacups, he felt an odd sense of envy and guilt. Curran had so much to live for. He had a family, a career, friends who cared about him… and Heinwald took that all away from him. Yet Curran showed him no malice, bore no grudge towards the man holding him captive. He even humored Heinwald’s interests. He didn’t discriminate against him for liking men. He comforted Heinwald whenever his anxiety struck him, becoming his shoulder to cry on when memories of his past became too painful to bear. Curran was essentially bound to Heinwald for life, but even in spite of being deprived of his freedom, he kept smiling, and he tried his hardest to share that feeling of happiness with Heinwald. Heinwald began to wonder if he was in the wrong for placing that sigil upon Curran’s neck, if he had deprived him of taking a wife, having children, creating his own happiness. It dug into his conscience like a poisoned blade, each memory of regret and shame stinging him.

     “Curran,” Heinwald said, “I want to help you with dinner tonight. I… I may not be the best cook, but I’ll do anything I can to help you with it.”

     “Really?” Curran replied, “That’ll actually be a great help! We can cook up a big vegetable feast!”

     “Only vegetables? No meat?”

     “We should use our harvest while it’s fresh. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure it can satisfy your picky tastes.”

     “If we aren’t having any meat at dinner, can we at least make a cake for dessert?”

     “Sounds like a fair compromise, but you won’t get to eat any of it unless you try at least a bite of every vegetable dish we make.”

     “I hate you Curran…”

***

     Rain poured down onto the plains, pattering against the foggy windows of the manor. Heinwald grimaced at the weather outside. Rain was always nice weather for reading books, but not tempestuous storms like this one. Fortunately he and Curran at least had a solid roof above their heads and warm food cooking on the stove and in the oven. Heinwald stirred the pot atop the stove’s burner, the orange liquid inside thickening to a silky texture. He pulled up the wooden spoon to taste it, then holding it out for Curran to judge as well.

     “It feels like it’s missing something,” Heinwald said, “Curran, what do you think?”

     “Hmm,” Curran thought, “Maybe some red pepper flakes. Just to give it a kick and balance out the sweetness.”

     Heinwald reached for the jar of pepper flakes on the counter, shaking some of the red, dried seeds into the rich soup. He stirred the pot a few more times before tasting it once more. The pepper flakes added just the right amount of spice to it, perfecting the creamy bisque.

     “Much better,” Heinwald smiled, “How is the squash coming along?”

     Curran looked into the oven, examining the beautifully browned vegetable. Rich tomato sauce slathered the tender flesh of the spaghetti squash and cheese bubbled on top. Curran pulled the squash out of the oven, carefully plating the still hot dish.

     “I think we’re just about ready for dinner,” Curran beamed, “Care to go set the table while I finish plating everything?”

     “Sure thing,” Heinwald replied.

     He grabbed two sets of silverware from the drawer, setting the dinner table as Curran ladled Heinwald’s finished soup into two medium bowls. Heinwald returned to the kitchen to help Curran carry their food to the table to eat. Even though their entire meal was vegetarian, Heinwald was amazed at how delicious everything looked and smelled. Fresh salad, pumpkin and carrot bisque, baked spaghetti squash, stuffed eggplant, a feast that Heinwald never expected to enjoy, but couldn’t stop himself from eating. The soup was deliciously creamy and sweet with a hint of spice, and save for the texture, Heinwald believed the baked spaghetti squash tasted nearly identical to actual pasta. The salad was refreshing and the stuffed eggplant was seasoned well enough to counteract the eggplant’s natural bitterness. Perhaps Curran had finally converted him into enjoying non-pickled vegetables.

     “You did a great job on the soup, Heinwald,” Curran praised.

     “I just cut up the vegetables and stirred it a bit…” Heinwald blushed, “I’m amazed that you could make eggplant taste this good.”

   “Look at how far you’ve come. Back when I first started living here, you wouldn’t even touch fresh vegetables. I’m glad that you’re finally starting to eat them.”

     “I’m pretty sure it’s just your cooking skills. You could probably cook my own tail and make it taste delicious.”

     “Ehh, not so sure about how comfortable I’d feel with eating the meat of an abyssal beast…”

     “I think I’d taste wonderful. Why don’t you take a bite for yourself?”

     Heinwald teasingly swished his tail, pushing it against Curran’s cheek. Curran raised an eyebrow, playfully biting down onto the tender flesh of Heinwald’s tail.

   “Ow!” he hissed, “What was that for?”

     “You offered,” Curran chuckled, “And you’re right, you don’t taste half bad.”

     “Curran, I was just joking with you…”

     “And I can’t tease you back?”

     Heinwald pouted grumpily, snarling as Curran laughed.

     “Hey, don’t give me that look,” Curran chuckled, “Or else you won’t get any cake.”

     “Fine…” Heinwald conceded, “I’ve eaten all of my dinner like we agreed upon, so you better give me a generous slice of cake.”

     “You’re such a child when it comes to your sweets.”

     “Shut up…”

     “Don’t worry, I’ll give you a big piece.”

     “You better…”

     Curran kissed Heinwald on the forehead before heading back to the kitchen. He returned to the dining room with a beautifully decorated carrot cake. Curran cut into the soft sponge, slicing off a generous portion of the dessert and plating it for Heinwald. Heinwald immediately dug into the cake, savoring the sweet vanilla of the frosting and aromatic spices and carrots within the sponge.

     “It appears my sacrifice has appeased the beast,” Curran joked.

     “You’ll live for now,” Heinwald replied, playing along with Curran, “But if you do not offer more tribute in the future, perhaps I will have to eat you instead! In all seriousness though, this cake is wonderful. A perfect way to end this meal.”

     “Glad you like it.”

     Curran cut off a small piece for himself. Though he didn’t have anywhere near as much of a sweet tooth as Heinwald, the cake was savory enough that he could enjoy it. They continued to pick away at their slices of cake until nothing but crumbs remained on their plates. Curran gathered their empty platters and dirty silverware, heading to the sink as Heinwald put the rest of their leftovers in the icebox. He joined Curran at the sink to help with dishes as soon as he was done in the pantry, drying the plates that Curran had just rinsed. It was just a typical chore, doing the dishes after a meal, but for some reason, Heinwald felt this moment was intimate. Cooking with Curran, eating dinner with Curran, doing the dishes with Curran. No matter what Heinwald did with him, no matter how they spent their time together, Heinwald felt bliss as long as he was by Curran’s side. He let his head fall onto Curran’s shoulder, resting it as he continued to dry the dishes and set them aside. The moment seemed to pass all too fast, with Curran handing him the last dish to dry. As he set the final plate aside, Heinwald was greeted with a soft kiss on the lips. It was short and chaste, but it still made his heart flutter.

     “Thanks for helping out with dinner tonight,” Curran smiled.

     “I’m glad I could help,” Heinwald replied, “Maybe one day I’ll be able to cook a delicious dinner for you.”

     “Promise me that when you do, you’ll make at least one vegetable dish.”

     “I’ll try my best.”

     The rain outside was coming down harder, crackles of thunder and lightning booming from outside of the manor. Heinwald winced, instinctively grabbing onto Curran’s arm for comfort.

     “You alright?” Curran worried.

     “I… I don’t like thunder…” Heinwald replied, “It terrifies me.”

     Curran ran his fingers through Heinwald’s hair, comforting him in an attempt to drown own the roar of the storm outside.

     “Are you going to be ok tonight?” Curran asked, “The storm isn’t looking like it’s going to clear out any time soon.”

     “I’ll be fine,” Heinwald assured, “I’ve weathered storms alone before. I can do it again.”

     Even with the pride in Heinwald’s words, Curran could still feel him shaking to his core, his body trembling in fear.

     “But you aren’t alone anymore,” Curran comforted, “Heinwald, I’m here for you. No matter how late into the night it gets, if it gets too painful being alone, if you get too frightened by the storm, come wake me up. I’ll stay with you until you’re feeling better.”

     “Curran,” Heinwald breathed, “I really don’t deserve you… You’re too good for me…”

***

     Heinwald tossed and turned in his bed, the sharp crack of thunder outside of his window making him tense and shiver under the sheets of his bed. He hated thunder. He hated that loud, violent boom that would rend the calm night asunder. It reminded him of his father; his cruel, abusive father whose shouts of disdain were as brash as the thunder, whose harsh blows were as unforgiving and precise as the lightning. With each crack of thunder, Heinwald felt as though he could hear his father’s voice, screaming inside of his head.

     BOOM!  
     _“You disgusting faggot,_ ” that cruel voice sneered.

     BOOM!

     _“You’re a disgrace to this family. The heir to my estate who won’t even produce an heir because he wants to share a bed with another man…”_

    BOOM!

_“You should have died long ago. It should have been you who killed yourself. Gretchen was a disappointment, but at least she wasn’t a filthy fag. You are no son to me. You’re worthless trash. The world would be better without you.”_

Heinwald screamed at the top of his lungs, jolting upright in his bed. He was drenched in a cold sweat, shivering and trembling as the thunder only continued to roar outside.

     “Curran,” he cried out, paralyzed from fear, “CURRAN! SAVE ME CURRAN!”

     He heard the sound of footsteps running ever closer and the door to his room swung open. Heinwald’s gaze drifted to his doorway, seeing Curran, alert and concerned, running into his room.

     “Heinwald! Are you ok?” Curran worried, rushing up to Heinwald’s bed.

     Heinwald winced as a bolt of lightning struck outside of his window, making him practically fall into Curran’s arms. Curran stroked his trembling back, holding him close. The soft beating of Curran’s heart soothed Heinwald’s nerves, almost drowning out the thunder and lightning outside.

     “It’s ok Heinwald,” Curran assuaged, “I’m here now. Everything is going to be ok.”

     “Curran…” Heinwald sobbed, “I’m so pathetic… a grown man who’s scared by thunder? I really am childish…”

     “You’re not pathetic, Heinwald. You’re the strongest man I know of. After everything you’ve been through, the fact that you can still smile and laugh and enjoy your life is a testament to your strength. Fears and vulnerability don’t make you weak. You’re allowed to be scared from time to time.”

     “I… I… I’m just a disappointment. You’ll come to hate me… I know you will. There’s no way anyone could truly love me…”

     “That’s not true.”

     Curran kissed away the tears that spilled from Heinwald’s eyes. A wave of calm flashed over him, soothing his fears, even if only temporarily.

     “I don’t think I could ever hate you, Heinwald,” Curran comforted, “Not after how close we’ve grown.”

     “I’m a monster,” Heinwald sniffed.

     “You’re human, Heinwald. You’re a human with a kind heart. Don’t let what happened in the past make you think any less of yourself, because in my eyes you are strong, you are kind, you deserve to be happy and loved.”

     “Curran… I…”

     Heinwald’s words stuck in his throat. It was just two more words. Two more simple words that would lift a crushing weight off of his chest, but they wouldn’t come out no matter how hard he tried. Curran hushed him, stroking his back gently to calm him.

     “It’s alright,” Curran assured, “Do you want me to stay in here with you tonight?”

     “I…” Heinwald stuttered, “I would like that a lot…”

     Curran crawled into the bed, joining Heinwald under the silk sheets. He pulled Heinwald in close, wrapping his arms around his waist and nestling his head against the back of his shoulder. It was a bit of an uncomfortable squeeze with Heinwald’s wings at his chest and tail at his groin, but Curran didn’t mind. In fact, he thought it was kind of nice being so close to Heinwald.

     Heinwald’s cheeks flushed red. He almost felt like he was dreaming, having Curran in the same bed with him, spooning him to make sure he was comfortable. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want this to happen, but Heinwald felt a bit embarrassed nonetheless. Being in such close proximity to the man he liked, especially being in the same bed as him, he feared that his lusts would resurface again, clouding his thoughts despite Curran’s wholesome intentions. At the very least, even if he did become aroused, Curran wouldn’t be able to see it unless he reached around him.

     “It… it’s not awkward for you, is it?” Heinwald worried.

     “Not at all,” Curran replied, “It’s a bit cramped with your wings and tail, but other than that I’m fine.”

     “I… I’m sorry about them…”

     “Don’t be sorry. You can’t help it.”

     Curran nuzzled into Heinwald’s back. Heinwald shivered, feeling Curran’s warm breath against the back of his neck.

     “You know,” Curran commented, “Your wings are surprisingly warm. And they’re smooth too. They’d make a nice blanket.”

     Curran ran his fingers over the intricate patterns on Heinwald’s wings, making a moan leak from Heinwald’s mouth. Heinwald immediately slapped his hands over his mouth, his cheeks only growing redder in embarrassment.

     “Sorry…” he apologized, “They’re a bit sensitive.”

     “Cute,” Curran whispered.

     Heinwald squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to let his mind wander even though Curran was right here, not even inches away from him, holding him tightly in his bed.

     _“He’s just here to comfort me,”_ Heinwald thought, _“There’s nothing lewd about this… Just wholesome, cuddling… with Curran… right next to me in my bed…”_

     His breath hitched as he felt Curran pull him closer, Heinwald’s tail practically between Curran’s legs now. He could feel the outline of his crotch, pressing into the hypersensitive flesh of his tail. Curran wasn’t even hard, but based on the pressure against his tail, Heinwald already knew one thing for sure:

     _“He’s big…”_ Heinwald swallowed hard.

     He could already feel his thoughts wandering off into impure territory. Heinwald wanted to make him hard. His own member was already beginning to stiffen in his pants as he imagined what Curran was like, unshackled by his lusts. Shyly, Heinwald began grinding his tail into Curran’s groin. He whimpered as his sensitive tail rubbed against the thin fabric of Curran’s pants, feeling Curran’s length hardening behind him. Heinwald cried out as Curran grabbed the base of his tail, pushing himself away.

     “Um, Heinwald,” Curran blushed, “Is it ok if I move back a bit?”

     “Is something wrong?” Heinwald asked, well aware that he had caused the problem by teasing Curran’s manhood.

     “No, nothing’s wrong, but… Does your tail always move like that when you’re trying to sleep?”

     “Did it make you uncomfortable?”

     “Well… It actually made me a bit too comfortable…”

     Heinwald couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to get this off his chest. He rolled on top of Curran, pinning him down into the bed.

     “Curran,” he confessed, “I’m in love with you.”

     Curran didn’t respond, his mouth moving as if words were trying to squeak out, only to be silenced by shock.

     “I’m sorry,” Heinwald choked, tears forming in his eyes, “I just can’t hold my feelings in any longer… I… I’ve been in love with you for so long now. When you taught me how to fly, when we went to that market in the Qilin tribe, when we kissed at the festival… Curran, I know I’m selfish. I know I’m not a good person. I know I’m absolutely hideous… But I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to keep kissing you. I want to cuddle you and go on dates with you and… and I want to have sex with you…”

     “Heinwald,” Curran breathed.

     “I know you might think I’m disgusting for it… For being in love with you… But even if my feelings aren’t mutual, I felt like I would have gone insane if I didn’t at least tell you how I felt… So please, know that my feelings are true… I love you, Curran.”

     Curran flipped Heinwald over, pushing him into the bed as he passionately kissed him. Heinwald could feel Curran’s fully erect member now grinding against his own, straining under the fabric of his pajamas. Heinwald closed his eyes and let himself go, accepting Curran’s kiss, Curran’s answer.

     “I think,” Curran replied, “I’m in love with you too, Heinwald.”

     “Do…” Heinwald whimpered, “Do you really mean that?”

     “It all makes sense. I’ve felt these odd feelings for you for a while. And whenever we kissed, whenever I saw you smiling and laughing, it made my heart feel light. The more I stayed with you, the less I felt like a prisoner. This is my home. This is where I belong. I want to be with you, Heinwald. I want to love you ‘til the end of time.”

     Heinwald couldn’t stop his tears of joy from overflowing. Curran accepted him. Curran loved him too. This was the happiest he had ever felt and he never wanted it to end.

     “Don’t cry Heinwald,” Curran smiled, “I want to see you smile.”

     Heinwald wiped his tears, a grin spreading across his face, “I’m so happy. I’m so happy Curran! I love you with all of my heart!”

     Heinwald pulled Curran back into their kiss, his heart pounding as their tongues intertwined, the sweet catharsis of a love realized. Heinwald pulled away, his face completely flushed red.

     “Curran…” he stammered, “I… I’m hard…”

     “Me too…” Curran replied, “You’re so cute, I can’t help it.”

     “I… I’m inexperienced when it comes to things like this… Will you please teach me?”

     Curran kissed him once more. Despite still being completely clothed, Heinwald felt he had laid his heart bare, gladly and proudly offering his whole being to Curran for him to use as he desired.

     “Gladly,” Curran growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of explanation for non-French speakers on the title of this chapter  
> "Coup de Foudre" literally means lightning bolt/strike in French, but it's also an idiomatic expression for "love at first sight" or "sudden, immediate love"  
> I felt it was an appropriate title for the chapter where Heinwald finally confesses his feelings and Curran not only accepts them, but reciprocates them as well  
> Anyway, look forward to sum fucc next chapter


	16. Le Premier Fois

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the delay on this chapter! This week was a double whammy of a clusterfuck since I had finals week and a horrible kidney infection, but I'm feeling a lot better and now I'm all done with finals!  
> So here's the moment you've been waiting for   
> THE SMUT

     Heinwald shivered as Curran slowly unbuttoned his silk nightgown, spreading the now open garment out across Heinwald’s chest. Curran never realized that the grayness of Heinwald’s right hand extended all the way up his arm, covering nearly half of his chest and ending at his neck. His waist was pencil thin, ribs slightly protruding from his fair skin and he had little to no muscle definition across his torso. Heinwald sat up, flexing his wings out of the hole in the back of his nightgown to help shrug it off, tossing it to the ground. Heinwald blushed, a bit shy being nearly nude, save for his underwear that did little for hiding his arousal, in front of Curran. Curran slid his hands down to Heinwald’s hips, not saying a word as he took in every detail of Heinwald’s body.

     “Stop staring,” Heinwald sighed, “I know I’m hideous to look at. You don’t have to pretend otherwise for my sake.”

     “But I’m not pretending,” Curran assured, peppering kisses across Heinwald’s exposed skin, “Your body is beautiful. I can’t get enough of it.”

     Heinwald whimpered as Curran pressed his lips into the coarse, gray skin of his collarbone. He was certain it had to be unpleasant for Curran, the gray patches across his body being as rough as sandpaper, but Curran continued his tender pecks of affection. Curran trailed his tongue from Heinwald’s collarbone to his nipples, gently pinching his bumpy right one while suckling on the soft pink one of his left side, making Heinwald mewl in delight. He hooked his fingers under the waistband of Heinwald’s underwear, attempting to tug them off to free his straining cock.

     “Wait,” Heinwald panted, “It… it ties in the back.”

     Curran pulled away for a moment, allowing Heinwald to turn around so he could undo the knot of his waistband. Heinwald buried his face into the pillow, not so much embarrassed that Curran would soon see him completely naked, but that Curran was getting to see his wings and tail up close. He always thought these parts of him were hideous deformities, making him appear even more ugly and justifying people viewing him as a monster. Yet Curran didn’t flinch or scoff at the black wings that sprouted out of his back or the thick tail protruding from his hips. Instead, he placed his hands at the joints connecting Heinwald’s wings to his body, gently massaging them and caressing the shimmering scales.

     “D-don’t touch my wings…” Heinwald whined, “They’re disgusting…”

     Curran ignored Heinwald’s pleas, continuing to stroke the scaled flesh of his wings, the tender musculature tensing under his touch. Moans spilled from Heinwald’s mouth with each press and stroke. He hated to admit it, but it felt good, having Curran caress his wings so gently.

     “Your wings, your tail, what part of you isn’t sensitive?” Curran chuckled.

     “Shut up!” Heinwald whined, “Just take off my underwear already.”

     “I just want to take my time enjoying your body. Seeing you like this is really hot.”

     Heinwald blushed as Curran’s hands slid down the small of his back, landing right above his tail. Curran pulled at the tied waistband of Heinwald’s underwear, freeing his tail so he could slide them off down his slender legs. In comparison to the rest of his body, Heinwald’s ass was surprisingly plump. Its soft curve was calling out for Curran to squeeze it. Heinwald whimpered as Curran’s fingers dug into the flesh of his butt, squeezing his soft, rounded cheeks.

     “Damn,” Curran remarked, “Heinwald your ass is nicer than most girls I’ve been with. Where have you been hiding this?”

     “Don’t make fun of me!” Heinwald replied defensively, “It’s the only place I gain weight…”

     Heinwald cried out when he felt a sharp slap on his buttocks, a red handprint now stung into one of his cheeks.

     “What was that for?” he whimpered.

     “Sorry,” Curran apologized, “I couldn’t help myself… Did you not like it?”

     “… Do it again… harder…”

     Curran grinned cheekily as he raised his hands once more, slapping the reddening mark on Heinwald’s behind. Heinwald’s tail stood on end as he shivered and shrieked from the sharp slap. Curran admired the marks he left on his pale ass, kissing the tender, red handprint.

   “Didn’t know you were such a masochist,” Curran said.

     “I… I didn’t either,” Heinwald panted, “Curran?”

     “What is it?” Curran purred.

     Heinwald looked over his shoulder, seeing Curran still fully clothed. He felt uncomfortable being the only one exposed. He wanted to see Curran’s body too.

     “It’s just…” he said, “You haven’t taken any of your clothes off…”

     Curran kissed him gently on the nape of his neck, leaning back to fiddle with his belt.

     “Well that can be arranged,” Curran replied.

     Heinwald heard the clinking of Curran’s belt as he slipped it off, throwing it to the floor. He stared in anticipation, watching the flexing of Curran’s muscles as he yanked his shirt over his head.

     “Oh, did you want to watch me strip?” he smirked shrewdly.

     “A little…” Heinwald blushed.

     He yelped as Curran flipped him back over onto his back, climbing over him in a straddle. Curran’s clothed groin was inches away from his face, but Heinwald could feel the intoxicating heat emanating from it.

     “I might as well give you a show then,” Curran teased.

     Heinwald blushed, hesitantly reaching up to Curran’s pectorals, squeezing the firm muscles of his chest. Curran growled in approval as Heinwald continued feeling up his chest, his eyes wandering down to Curran’s defined abs. His six-pack glistened with sweat, warm to the touch under Heinwald’s exploring fingers. Heinwald couldn’t resist Curran’s body and trailed his tongue along his abs, lapping up the salty sweat beading over his taught skin.

     “Your body is perfect, Curran,” Heinwald mewled, “I wish my body looked half as nice as yours…”

     Curran ran his fingers through Heinwald’s hair, brushing his long bangs from his eyes.

     “Your body is already perfect to me,” Curran assured.

     Heinwald swallowed hard as Curran slipped his fingers under the waistline of his pants. He slid them and his underwear down his hips, his cock bobbing out of the constraints of his clothes. Heinwald’s jaw dropped at the sight of Curran’s dick. It was several inches longer than his own, and thick to top it off. Precum oozed from the tip and blonde pubes trailed along his groin up to right below his belly button.

     “You like what you see?” Curran asked.

     “You’re huge…” Heinwald gaped, “May I… can I taste it?”

     Curran chuckled, pressing the tip of his cock against Heinwald’s lips.

     “Be my guest,” he grinned.

     Heinwald opened his mouth, gently licking the swollen head of Curran’s dick. The scent of musk and salt taste of sweat from his member drove Heinwald mad with lust, and he wanted more. Slowly, he began bobbing his head back and forth, Curran’s hands now tugging at his hair in reassurance. His erection pulsed inside of Heinwald’s mouth as Heinwald suckled and licked at it. Curran was amazed that Heinwald was this good at fellatio, especially since he was so inexperienced.

     “That feels nice,” Curran encouraged, stroking Heinwald’s hair in thanks.

     Heinwald’s heart fluttered. He was so happy that he was giving Curran pleasure, but he wanted to make him feel even better. Due to Curran’s size, he could barely fit half inside of his mouth. He took a deep breath and plunged his mouth to the base, only to immediately gag and pull away. Curran rolled off of Heinwald immediately, looking him in the eyes and stroking his cheek.

     “You alright?” he worried.

     “I’m fine… sorry about that,” Heinwald hacked.

     “You don’t need to apologize. I wasn’t expecting you to deepthroat me. That’s pretty difficult stuff.”

     “I just wanted to make you feel good…”

     “You did. Now how about I pleasure you?”

     Heinwald nodded his head, nervous and overwhelmed. He was excited to finally be doing such intimate things with Curran, but a part of him couldn’t help but feel a bit frightened. This was completely uncharted territory for him. Sure he had masturbated before, but sex was a pleasure he had yet to experience. Curran crawled back on top of him, aligning their dicks together. Heinwald was too embarrassed to look. He knew that Curran’s cock probably dwarfed his own. His breath hitched as he felt the squeeze of Curran’s hand around both of their members, stroking the two of them together. Curran went back in for a kiss, sliding his tongue into Heinwald’s mouth as he held him close. Heinwald moaned as he accepted the kiss, heat pooling in his groin as Curran stroked the both of them off.

     Curran pulled away from Heinwald’s lips and stopped stroking to plant kisses across his body. He paid special attention to the gray patches, kissing and licking the coarse, gray skin.

     “Why are you kissing me there…” Heinwald sighed, “My patchy skin… isn’t it rough?”

     “Sure it’s not as smooth as the skin on your left half,” Curran confessed, “But it’s still a part of you, so I’m showing it just as much love as I would the rest of you.”

     Heinwald covered his face with his hands, blushing at Curran’s kindness. Curran continued kissing him, eventually reaching his crotch. His soft lips pressed into the sensitive head of Heinwald’s cock, kissing it gently before taking it inside of his mouth. Heinwald gasped as his dick became enveloped in the warm wetness of Curran’s mouth. Curran’s tongue wrapped around his shaft, licking the sensitive veins bulging from Heinwald’s member and teasing the soft, tender head. Heinwald’s hips felt like they were moving on their own, bucking into the back of Curran’s throat. Curran coughed a bit from Heinwald’s cock ramming into his soft palate, but he kept sucking, encouraged by the look of melting pleasure plastered across Heinwald’s face.

     “Cu…rran…” Heinwald whimpered, “It… it feels so good!”

     Curran hummed, taking Heinwald’s dick to the base one last time before removing his mouth, his lips popping against the tip.

     “Why did you stop?” Heinwald whined.

     “I can’t have you cumming just yet,” Curran teased.

     Heinwald gulped as he felt Curran place his hands at his ass, spreading Heinwald’s cheeks apart to reveal his puckered hole. It was a soft pink and practically twitching in anticipation.

     “Looks delicious,” Curran growled.

     “Delicious?’ Heinwald retorted, “Are you insane? That’s my- AHHH!”

     Curran pressed his tongue up against Heinwald’s hole, licking the soft, sensitive area. Heinwald mewled as Curran’s tongue wriggled inside of him, his tight walls squeezing in response to the new sensation of pleasure pulsing in his groin.

     “Curran… stop…” Heinwald cried, “Its gross… Don’t lick me there…”

     He didn’t want him to stop. If it felt this good having Curran’s tongue inside of him, he could only imagine how much pleasure he would feel from his fingers, or his dick. As if the pleasure couldn’t get any more intense, Curran grabbed onto Heinwald’s tail, stroking the tip as if it were his cock. Heinwald couldn’t control his voice, moaning and panting as Curran stimulated his erogenous zones.

     “Curran… It feels too good…” Heinwald whimpered, “But I want you… I want to make you feel good too!”

     Curran stopped licking and stroking, pulling away to gaze down at Heinwald. His body seemed to be leaking everything, tears, saliva, precum, and he had gone completely limp save for his hard, twitching dick. His eyes were glazed over in lust, half-lidded and passionate, wanting to see more, to feel more of Curran. His chest rose and fell heavily, the stimulation and arousal making his pulse rise through the roof. Curran wanted to see more of this. He wanted to make Heinwald come completely undone, to make him forget about his appearance, his curse. He wiped his lips before kissing Heinwald chastely.

     “I want to start prepping you,” Curran whispered, “I want to be inside of you so badly.”

     Heinwald squirmed as he felt Curran grind against him once more, his asshole twitching in want.

     “I… I want you to fill me up…” Heinwald cried, “Please Curran…”

     “Did your parents or sister have any lube we could use?” Curran wondered, “If they don’t I’m afraid we might just have do oral.”

     Heinwald blushed as he reached over to his dresser. He pulled open the drawer, removing a bottle of lube from within and handing it to Curran without a word.

     “Where’d you get this?” Curran chuckled.

     “I…” Heinwald stammered, “I took it from my sister’s room… Once you said that you needed lube for anal sex… I may or may not have tried stretching myself on my own…”

     “Oh? So you’ve already fingered yourself before?” Curran teased.

     He opened up the bottle, pouring a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and positioning his ring finger at Heinwald’s entrance. Slowly, he began easing it in, burying the tip of his digit inside. Heinwald winced at the entrance, but more from the cold of the lube than from pain or discomfort.

     “I… was only able to fit one finger before…” he confessed, “Sorry if I’m too tight…”

     “Just relax,” Curran comforted, “I won’t hurt you. I’ll make you feel amazing.”

     Curran pressed his finger inside to the knuckle, gently rubbing Heinwald’s insides to probe for his prostate. Heinwald breathed in deeply, trying to adjust to the sensation of Curran’s finger slowly moving in and out of him. The digit swiped deep inside of him, making Heinwald’s back arch and moans spill from his mouth.

     “Found it,” Curran chuckled.

     “Curran…” Heinwald moaned, “It felt really good right there…”

   “Oh, you mean here?”

     Curran pressed hard into Heinwald’s prostate, teasing Heinwald as he writhed in pleasure.

     “I think you might be ready for me to add another finger,” Curran laughed, “May I?”

     “Go… go ahead,” Heinwald panted.

     Curran nearly withdrew his ring finger before slowly sliding in his middle. Heinwald tensed. Even through the difference in the stretch wasn’t by much, it was enough to cause discomfort.

     “Heinwald,” Curran worried, “Does it hurt?”

     “It’s… just a tad bit uncomfortable,” Heinwald winced.

     “I’ll go nice and slowly then. I want to make sure you enjoy your first time.”

     Heinwald continued taking deep breathes as Curran pressed his second finger in until both were inside to the knuckle. He gently massaged Heinwald’s insides, ensuring that he was not only relaxed, but also enjoying himself as well. Heinwald’s moans turned to small whimpers as Curran’s touch turned softer, replacing his potent bursts of pleasure with an almost soothing, numbing one. Heinwald lifted his head from his pillow to look at Curran. While he looked happy to please him, his cock was red and throbbing, practically begging for release. Heinwald began to feel a little guilty. If he were more experienced, if he had prepared himself better, Curran wouldn’t have had to wait to release.

     “Curran,” he yearned, “You… you can just put it in now if you want…”

     “No way,” Curran replied, “Not until you’re comfortable with taking at least three of my fingers.”

     “But… you’re so hard… doesn’t it hurt not being able to cum yet? At least I’m getting some stimulation, you’re not even being touched.”

     “I don’t mind. Besides, there’s no way I could get pleasure from having sex that hurts you.”

     “Can I… at least suck on you while you finger me?”

     Curran paused. That actually wasn’t a bad idea. He pulled out his fingers, rolling over to lie next to Heinwald.

     “Get on top of me,” he ordered, “With your ass facing me.”

     Heinwald complied, crawling over Curran’s muscular body to straddle his face. He feared his tail was in the way, but Curran didn’t mind, stroking the soft flesh of the underside. Curran squeezed hard on Heinwald’s ass, while his cock twitched in front of Heinwald’s face.

     “I like this view,” Curran purred.

     Heinwald found the position to be a touch embarrassing, but at least he’d be able to pleasure Curran while he prepped him. Heinwald gazed at Curran’s cock, running his fingers up and down the smooth shaft. While Heinwald despised his “monstrous parts,” perhaps the tongue that he had been “gifted” by Nyarlathotep could be useful. He fully extended his tongue, wrapping it completely around Curran’s cock. Curran grunted in pleasure as Heinwald’s serpentine tongue stroked him, nearly completely enveloping his member.

     “That feels good,” he purred, “Allow me to return the favor.”

     Heinwald mewled as Curran took his cock inside of his mouth, suckling him as he began to press three fingers against his tight entrance. The warmth of the inside of Curran’s mouth was intoxicating, relaxing Heinwald’s body and allowing Curran to easily slide three fingers inside of him. The stimulation made Heinwald feel like he was near the breaking point, teetering on the edge of release with each stroke and lick. He wanted to share this intense pleasure with Curran, to satisfy him and be praised by him. Heinwald continued stroking Curran with his tongue, pressing his lips to his swelling tip to lap up his precum. He wanted to scream from the intense pleasure of Curran digging into his prostate while his warm tongue caressed his dick, but he couldn’t lose himself. Heinwald wanted Curran to feel good too. Curran withdrew his fingers and stopped sucking, patting Heinwald gently to get his attention.

     “I think I’ve prepared you well enough,” he said.

     Heinwald unraveled his tongue from around Curran’s pulsating member, swallowing it back into his throat. He nodded to Curran, his body ready and eager to experience the pleasures of the flesh for the first time. Heinwald rolled off of Curran and onto his back, allowing Curran to position himself between his legs, his cock twitching at his entrance. Curran coated his dick in lube for good measure, positioning it at Heinwald’s hole. Heinwald bit his lip in anticipation.

   “You ready?” Curran asked.

     “I think so…” he replied, “I’m still a touch nervous though…”

     Curran kissed him gently, gazing into his crimson eyes with sincerity.

     “I won’t hurt you,” he assured, “I promise. If it starts feeling uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll stop immediately.”

     “Ok…” Heinwald whimpered, “I trust you Curran… Go ahead and put it in…”

     Heinwald winced as he felt the thick, blunt head of Curran’s dick pressing inside of him. Even with all of the preparation and lube, it still hurt a little, but he didn’t want to show his pain to Curran. He wanted to make Curran feel good. He wanted their bodies to be connected. He wanted this. As Curran pushed in further, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, the stretch becoming more painful. Curran gently kissed away his tears, stroking his cheek in assurance.

     “Relax,” he comforted, “You’re doing great, Heinwald. I’m about halfway in.”

     “Curran…” Heinwald whimpered, “Does it feel good… Do I feel good inside?”

     “Yeah, you’re nice and warm and soft. But you’re really tight. Does it hurt?”

     Heinwald blushed, looking aside nervously.

     “A bit…” he confessed, “You’re just… really big…”

     “Do you want me to stop?” Curran asked.

     “No! I want to make you feel good Curran. Even if the pain were unbearable I would still want you to keep going... Because I love you… I love you and I want to go all the way with you.”

     Curran hugged Heinwald tight, kissing him passionately. As they kissed, Heinwald’s fears and stress seemed to flit away, falling like water off of a ducks back. His whole body relaxed, and Curran took advantage of this opportunity to push further inside. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t feel uncomfortable. Heinwald only felt bliss since Curran was kissing him and holding him close and he never wanted to let go. Heinwald gasped as Curran’s dick pressed into his prostate, sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. Heinwald soon felt the firm flesh of Curran’s hips brush against his, his cock completely buried inside of him.

     “Well look at that,” Curran growled, “I’m all the way inside.”

     A smile spread across Heinwald’s face, “I’m glad… I’m so glad Curran. We’ve become one.”

     “Let me know when you want me to start moving. I’ll give you all the time you need to adjust.”

     “You can move whenever you want. I’m ready.”

     Curran began to slowly rock his hips, gently making love to Heinwald. He whimpered as Curran’s cock slid in and out of him. Each gentle movement made Heinwald feel like he was floating in a sea of pleasure, warmth spreading throughout his body with each thrust. Every time Curran brushed against his prostate, his body shivered, pleasure welling up from the sensitive gland. Yet he wanted more. He wanted Curran to go faster, harder, with all the carnal passion and love that he knew Curran was capable of.

     “Curran…” he whimpered, “You… you can do it rougher if you want…”

     “Are you sure?” Curran wondered, “It’s your first time. I thought it would be better for me to be gentle with you.”

     “I’ll be fine. I want you to feel good too.”

     “I’m already feeling amazing just by being inside of you, but if that’s what you want…”

     Curran bucked his hips hard into Heinwald’s body, slamming into his prostate. Heinwald shrieked, throwing his head back in pleasure.

     “I like that!” he moaned, “I like that a lot! Please do it harder!”

   “You really are a masochist,” Curran chuckled.

     He withdrew his dick to the tip before slamming it back inside. Heinwald cried out in ecstasy, wrapping his tail around Curran to push him in deeper, rougher, faster. He matched the rhythm of Curran’s thrusts with his own hips, their bodies colliding in sweaty fits of pleasure as the room filled with the cacophony of skin slapping against skin. If only for a moment, Heinwald didn’t care about the storm raging outside, the curse that distorted his appearance, the harsh memories of his past: because this moment, being fucked by the man he loved, made nothing else in the world matter. His cock twitched and the heat pooling in his groin began to overflow. He felt like he could cum at any second.

     “Curran…” he moaned, “I’m gonna… I’m so close…”

     “Me too…” Curran grunted.

     “Curran… I love you so much! Please cum inside of me! I want you to fill me up.”

     “I love you too, Heinwald. I’ll give you what you want, but please show me your cute face when you cum.”

     With one last thrust of Curran’s hips, Heinwald screamed as he came all over their chests and stomachs, his jaw going slack as saliva dripped from his mouth. Curran followed soon after, spilling his seed into the depths of Heinwald’s body. The two panted hard, the afterglow from their orgasms showing no sign of fading. Cum leaked from Heinwald’s hole as Curran pulled out his softening cock. Heinwald felt sticky, drenched with sweat and semen, but satisfied. He could get used to this, the overwhelming pleasure of sex and satisfaction of release afterwards. If this was how Gretchen felt towards Antonio, he could understand why she was so smitten and eager for their married life together. Curran lay down next to Heinwald, brushing the sweat-soaked hair from his eyes.

     “Did you enjoy your first time?” he asked.

     “You were amazing,” Heinwald breathed.

     Curran kissed him chastely on the lips.

     “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Curran smiled, “It felt amazing for me too.”

     Heinwald gazed into Curran’s twinkling blue eyes. He felt like he could get lost in them, staring into them for the rest of time. He had never seen such a beautiful shade of blue. Heinwald wrapped his wings around Curran as they held each other close. His eyes began to grow heavy with sleep. He wanted to stay awake, to continue looking at Curran’s handsome face, staring into his loving eyes as they savored each others’ presence. He felt so comfortable, so safe. Curran made him feel loved. Even with his wings, his tail, his horns… Curran made him feel human. Heinwald’s eyes fluttered closed, giving into the comfort of Curran’s arms as sleep overcame him. Curran chuckled, running his fingers through Heinwald’s hair as he watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

     “Sleep well, Heinwald,” he cooed.


	17. Liberté

     The faint light of the morning sun cracked through the curtains, making Heinwald stir under his sheets. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, looking to his side to see Curran still sleeping soundly next to him. Heinwald placed his palm against his cheek, rubbing the soft skin of his face and running his fingers through the coarse hairs of his goatee. It felt like Heinwald was still dreaming, asleep in a wonderful fantasy where Curran loved him, where they finally expressed their love physically that crossed over the boundary between friends and lovers. He feared if someone pinched him he would wake up, returning to a cruel world where he was seen as a monster, where Curran might not even know him, or might despise him. He nuzzled up against Curran once more, being careful not to wake him. Heinwald could hear Curran’s heartbeat, a calming rhythm that soothed Heinwald to his core. His stomach growled, but he remained fast asleep, his chest rising and falling gently.

     “Maybe I should try making him some breakfast,” Heinwald thought.

     Slowly, he got out of bed, careful not to disturb Curran, and threw on his clothes. Heinwald headed downstairs, making his way for the kitchen. His manor was so much cleaner and inviting since Curran began living with him. After ten long years, it was starting to feel like home once again. Once he reached the kitchen, he headed into the pantry, pulling some eggs and strips of bacon out of the pantry. He set his ingredients down before grabbing a bowl, a whisk, a wooden spoon and a cast iron skillet. He turned on the burner and set the skillet on top, waiting for the metal to get hot before placing the strips of bacon inside. Carefully, he cracked the egg against the side of the bowl, only for it to completely shatter, the goopy mess of raw egg sliding down the side of the bowl. Heinwald immediately rushed to grab a towel to clean it up.

     He shook his head and tried again, this time cracking it with enough force to create a small break instead of completely shattering the egg. Heinwald opened up the egg, its contents splashing into the bowl, and then continued to do the same with three more. He slowly stuck his wooden spoon into the bowl, breaking the yellow balls of yolk to incorporate them into the egg whites. Suddenly, he smelled smoke. Heinwald looked to the cast iron skillet and gasped. His bacon was burning. Quickly, he transferred the hot strips to a plate, trying to reduce the damage.

     “I hope Curran likes his bacon extra crispy…” he sighed.

     Heinwald grabbed his bowl of raw eggs, dumping them into the bacon grease lined skillet. As the eggs began to cook, Heinwald broke up the eggs, allowing the still liquid parts to become solid. They weren’t the fluffiest, most appealing looking scrambled eggs he’d ever seen, but he tried his hardest. He sighed as he transferred them to the plate with the bacon, grabbed a fork, and took the dish upstairs. Heinwald carefully opened the door to see Curran still fast asleep in his bed. He smirked as he approached him, kissing him softly on his forehead to wake him up.

     “Good morning sleeping beauty,” Heinwald smiled.

     “Mornin’,” Curran yawned.

     He rubbed his eyes, stretching as he started to wake up, the smell of bacon and eggs rousing him from slumber. As his vision focused, Heinwald came into view, a platter of breakfast in his hands.

     “Breakfast in bed?” he asked, “How nice of you.”

     “It’s not as good as your cooking,” Heinwald blushed, “But it’s made with love.”

     “Well then don’t mind if I do. Thanks for the meal.”

     Curran gathered some of the scrambled eggs on his fork, lifting it to his mouth eagerly. Heinwald watched in anticipation. He hoped that he managed not to get any eggshells in it.

     “How is it?” Heinwald wondered.

     “Delicious,” Curran replied, “I like how you seasoned the eggs with the bacon fat.”

     Heinwald didn’t have the heart to tell him that he forgot to cook the eggs in a separate pan.

     “The bacon isn’t too burnt, is it?” Heinwald sighed.

     “Nah it’s great,” Curran responded, happily crunching on the bacon, “I like it extra crispy.”

     Heinwald heaved a sigh of relief. He went in with low expectations and Curran actually enjoyed his breakfast. Perhaps love truly was the best spice. As Curran continued to clean his plate, Heinwald walked over to the window to open the curtain. The rain from last night had cleared into a beautiful morning sky, a rainbow shining brightly across the clouds. He yelped as he felt Curran wrap his arms around him from behind.

     “Beautiful,” Curran whispered.

     “Yeah,” Heinwald replied, “It is a gorgeous day outside.”

     “I was talking about you.”

     Heinwald snickered as Curran kissed him chastely on his cheek.

     “God, Curran you’re so corny…” he giggled, “But in all seriousness, it’s so beautiful outside, it would be a shame to waste the day indoors. Get dressed. I want to take you somewhere special.”

     “Oh?” Curran wondered, “Where did you have in mind?”

     “You’ll see when we get there.”

     Heinwald turned his neck to kiss Curran softly, wriggling from his grasp to take his now empty plate.

     “Meet me downstairs when you’re ready,” Heinwald said, closing the door behind him.

     He headed back down to the kitchen, gripping the empty plate close. He was overjoyed that Curran enjoyed his breakfast. Heinwald turned on the sink and began washing the dish, scrubbing the bacon grease from the plate. Once it began to sparkle, he set it aside, brushing the cast iron skillet with salt to rub off the food scraps and rinsing it clean. Curran soon joined him downstairs, dressed and ready. Heinwald set aside the now clean dishes and turned around.

     “Follow me,” Heinwald said.

     “Do you need me to grab your cape?” Curran asked.

     “No. Where we’re going is walking distance, and its close enough that I can run back inside if I see someone.”

     Heinwald grabbed Curran’s hand, holding it tight as he led him out the door of the manor. The air outside was brisk, but refreshing, still smelling of fresh rain. The rainbow was beginning to fade, its bright colors turning pastel and transparent against the morning sky. Heinwald led Curran out into the field, proceeding up a small hill until they reached the large tree at the top. Heinwald let go of Curran’s hand, kneeling down almost as if he were praying. He caressed the still damp ground with his hand, smiling in nostalgia.

     “Good morning, mother,” Heinwald smirked.

     Curran felt his heart nearly stop for a moment. This tree… was where Heinwald’s mother was buried? He always knew kids loved to play on it, swinging happily from the branches and resting in the shade. He never realized that this place meant so much to Heinwald, housing his mother for the rest of time.

   “I’m sorry I haven’t visited your grave in a while,” Heinwald continued, “But I wanted to introduce you to someone special.”

     Heinwald turned around, signaling for Curran to kneel down next to him. Curran happily complied, gripping onto Heinwald’s hand and staring at the tree.

     “Mother,” Heinwald introduced, “This is Curran. He’s my lover. Life has been pretty hard since you left us. I’m sure you know that Gretchen is with you too now… and that I look like a hideous beast. But Curran has been a ray of light in my world of darkness. He’s shown me the happiness I’ve long since forgotten. I wish you were still here to meet him in person. His cooking is just as good as yours was and I’m sure you would have loved him as well. He makes me so happy, mother. He’s a soothing balm for my horrible pain. I love him.”

     The wind rippled across the tall grass of the field, leaves falling gently from the tree. Curran looked over to Heinwald. Tears poured incessantly from his eyes, but he was still grinning from ear to ear. Heinwald’s mother had been such a positive impact on his life, he felt honored that he would introduce him to her.

     “Lady Charlotte,” Curran said, “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you. Heinwald told me how wonderful of a person you were, and he always tells me how much he misses you. I can tell Heinwald got his kindness and generosity from you. He’s an amazing partner, and I feel so honored to be loved by him. You would be very proud of the man he is today.”

     “Curran…” Heinwald sighed, “Do you really think mother would be proud of me?”

     “I know she would. Lady Charlotte, I promise to take good care of your son. You can leave him in my hands. I vow on my life to keep him happy and safe until the end of time.”

     Heinwald let his head fall comfortably onto Curran’s shoulder, closing his eyes as the calm winds of the field brushed against them. He knew his mother was smiling down on him, happy that he had found someone he loved, someone who loved him. He slowly opened his eyes, eager to see the tree at his mother’s grave, and Curran beside him. Yet the world around him was black and empty. He shivered in fear. Heinwald knew this place all too well. He looked to his side, noticing Curran was nowhere to be seen. Frantically, he stood up, running through the dark Abyss, desperately searching for Curran.

     “Curran!” he cried out, “Curran! Where are you?”

     “Keep calling. Thy voice will not reach him. For it is already too late,” a sinister amalgamation of voices hissed.

     Heinwald snarled, bearing his fangs and retracting his claws.

     “Nyarlathotep,” he growled, “Why did you call me here? What did you do to Curran?”

     “It is not what we have done to him,” Nyarlathotep sneered, “But what thou willst doest to him. Behold thy fate.”

     A blinding light shone down into a patch of the darkness, making Heinwald squint and back away. When he finally opened his eyes, he fell back in horror, screaming at the sight. Lying before him was Curran, dead and covered in blood. His body was mutilated; limbs were torn off and innards spilt from his split open stomach. His blue eyes were lifeless, glazed over like a doll’s. Heinwald wretched.

     “Curran…” he cried, “CURRAN! YOU FOUL BEAST! WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO HIM?”

     “We did nothing,” Nyarlathotep informed, “We are merely showing thee the future, a possibility of what is to come if thou keepest him in thy domain.”

     “What do you mean? Answer me!”

     “We grow tired of waiting for thy incubation, thus we have decided to accelerate the process. Each passing day, thy appearance and thy soul shalt become like ours, and thou willst not be able to resist our desire for chaos for long. If thou keepest Curran in thy domain, thou willst slaughter him to this state with thy very own hands.”

     “No… YOU’RE LYING! YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T TAKE OVER MY BODY UNTIL I DIED! I DON’T WANT THIS!”

     “What thou desirest matters not. We had no obligation to warn thee, yet we decided from the sliver of kindess we possess to do so. Freest Curran from thy domain. Release him from whenst he came, and thou willst not slaughter him so.”

     “Release him… You want me to remove the sigil and let him go?”

     “Thou art being selfish, hoarding him to thyself, cutting him off from the rest of the world. Our transformation of thy appearance has no bearing on that. Thou art a monster for keeping him as thy prisoner.”

   Heinwald’s knees buckled. He fell to the ground, tearing at his hair as his face grew pale and contorted in anguish.

     “YOU’RE WRONG!” he shouted, “CURRAN ISN’T MY PRISONER! HE LOVES ME!”

     “He loves thee now,” Nyarlathotep hissed, “But at the beginning, he was thy slave. Just because thy relationship hast changed over his period of detainment doesn’t change the fact that he is still a prisoner.”

     “How dare you lecture me on morality when you’re a beast of the Abyss…”

     “Thou art the same as us. Morals mean nothing to us, so long as we may achieve our goal. Keep him in thy domain if thou wishest, but do not blame us when thou slaughterest him.”

     Heinwald screamed. He wanted to tear his flesh from his bone, to rip off his skin and dissolve into nothingness.

     _“Let me out,”_ he thought, _“Let me out let me out letm eout l etmeout letmeoutletmeoutletmeout!”_

     Heinwald woke up in a cold sweat under the tree, Curran shaking him awake. Once he came to, Curran hugged him tightly.

     “Thank Ilia,” Curran cried, “You completely blacked out. I’m so glad you’re alright.”

     Heinwald was still as pale as a ghost. He was happy to see Curran alive and well, but that image of his mutilated body would be forever seared into his memory. He shook his head, trying to get some of the color to return to his face.

     “Are you ok?” Curran worried.

     “I’m fine,” Heinwald fibbed, “I just… I forgot to eat this morning. I was so busy making you breakfast that I didn’t make any for myself.”

     “How about we go back then. You can lie down and I’ll make you breakfast. Then if you’re feeling better we can come back.”

     “Yeah…”

     The two headed back to the manor, Curran leading Heinwald up the stairs and tucking him back into bed. He kissed him on the forehead gently, caressing his cheek.

     “I’ll be right back with breakfast,” Curran comforted, “Just yell if you need me.”

     “Ok…” Heinwald replied.

     Heinwald curled up into a ball as soon as Curran left, still ruminating on his vision. Nyarlathotep was a cruel elder dragon by nature, but he never thought that he would be this cruel. Heinwald was torn. He loved Curran. He wanted to be with him for the rest of his life, but if what Nyarlathotep said was true about accelerating his transformation process, he feared that vision would become a reality. The sight of Curran’s mangled corpse was terrifying enough, but knowing that Heinwald would commit that with his own two hands was even more so. He buried his face in the pillow, confused and terrified.

     “I don’t want this…” he whimpered, “I don’t want to become a monster…”

     He suddenly heard the door swing open and sat upright to lull Curran into the impression that he was ok. Curran was carrying a steaming short-stack of pancakes, a pad of butter melting on top.

     “I know how much you love your sweets,” Curran said, “So I made you some pumpkin spice pancakes.”

     Heinwald’s mouth watered. He could smell the fragrant cinnamon, ginger, and cloves from his bed. The pancakes were perfectly fluffy and piping hot, making the butter melt and trickle slowly down the sides. He set the plate on Heinwald’s lap, handing him a fork and a knife.

     “Enjoy,” Curran smirked.

     Heinwald cut off a piece of the fluffy pancake, biting into it happily. It tasted just as delicious as it smelled, the spices and sugar making the delicious pumpkin pop in the soft pancake. He began to cry as he remembered Nyarlathotep’s vision. If he let him go, he’d never be able to enjoy Curran’s cooking again.

     “Heinwald, what’s wrong?” Curran worried, “Does it taste bad?”

     “No it’s good…” Heinwald sobbed, “You’re cooking is so good Curran…”

     “Don’t cry Heinwald. I mean I’m flattered that you think it’s good enough to be moved to tears, but I like seeing you smile. Please smile for me.”

     Heinwald forced a smile as Curran wiped away his tears. He didn’t want his time with Curran to end. He didn’t want to let go of the first taste of happiness he had in ten years. There had to be some way to stop his transformation from accelerating. He looked down at his plate of half eaten pancakes and sighed.

     “Curran,” he said, “I fear I have something I must attend to in the library today. I know I said we were going out, but I fear that visiting mother’s grave was all I could manage.”

     “Don’t worry about it,” Curran replied, “I was glad I got to visit such a special place with you. I can just do some gardening and tidy up the house a bit more. You focus on what you have to get done.”

     Curran was so understanding. Perhaps he really was too good for him. He placed his hand at Curran’s chin, leaning in close to kiss him chastely on the lips.

     “Well, I’ll let you finish your breakfast so you can get to work,” Curran said, “I’ll be out in the garden.”

     Curran kissed him once more before leaving the room to do some garden work. Heinwald stared down at his half eaten pancakes. As he continued to eat, he reminisced on all of his good memories with Curran. Whether it was flying, hunting, or simply doing chores and eating together, Heinwald couldn’t help but feel happy. Curran brought out the best in him. He taught him so much about the world, about life, about love. Heinwald didn’t want to let that go. He didn’t want to abandon this newfound happiness and become a fearsome beast. He set his fork and knife down on his now empty plate, taking it downstairs and setting it in the sink. He looked out the back window, seeing Curran hard at work pulling weeds from the garden. Their life had gotten so easy, so perfect. He cursed his fate for Nyarlathotep trying to end this state of endless bliss.

     Heinwald turned on his heel, heading to his library. This place was always his sanctuary, lined with all the books he could read with as many genres as he liked. But he wasn’t here to read for pleasure. He had a score to settle. Heinwald grabbed the ladder, taking it over to the side of the library that held the switch to open the globe. He pulled on the book, hearing the click of the globe cracking open. Black mana swirled around the Grimoire of Nyarlathotep, almost as if it was taunting him, laughing at his fate.

     “This is between you and me, Nyarlathotep,” Heinwald hissed, “Leave Curran out of this.”

     He descended the ladder, grabbing the book from inside of the globe. As Nyarlathotep had already cursed him, the black mana had no affect on his body or mind. He could easily read it like an actual text, but he was not interested in knowing the thoughts of that Abyssal Dragon. He carried the book to the fireplace, setting it down beside him as he kindled a fire. He rubbed the kindling together until a spark landed on the logs within, growing from smoke into a raging fire.

     “You may have taken my body,” Heinwald cursed, “But your soul is still vulnerable. You chose a book, a vessel of knowledge to lure me in, but I know this truth from experience. Books can burn.”

     He tossed the grimoire into the fireplace, watching as the black mana mingled with the flames inside. His face drained of all color. The grimoire wasn’t burning. Even though it was made of paper and leather, the flame simply bounced off of it, as if the black mana was shielding it from destruction. Heinwald grabbed the poker and toked the flames, trying to get it to burn higher, hotter, anything to destroy the grimoire.

     “Come on, burn!” Heinwald cried out desperately, “Why won’t you burn?”

     That same sinister voice Heinwald knew too well cackled, it’s maniacal laughter filling his thoughts.

     “Thou art fool,” Nyarlathotep scoffed, “Thou thinkest thee can destroy us that easily. Thou hast truly gotten desperate.”

     “I will destroy you,” Heinwald cursed, “I’ll destroy you and break this curse! Then I can live happily with Curran.”

     “Thou can tend the fire til the end of time. Our book will never burn.”

     Heinwald didn’t listen, continuing to throw more firewood on top of the book.

     “SHUT UP!” Heinwald shouted, “I… I will…”

     “Thy efforts are useless, laughable even,” Nyarlathotep mocked, “Thy sweet desperation and despair is absolutely delicious.”

     “I’m not going to let him go… I can’t… I…”

     The image of Curran’s disfigured corpse flashed across his mind once more. Heinwald screamed as Nyarlathotep cackled at his misery.

     “Thou art quite the entertainer,” Nyarlathotep laughed, “Perhaps thou should have been the King’s royal fool.”

     “I hate you…” Heinwald spat, “I WON’T LET YOU WIN!”

     “Stop denying the inevitable. Unless thou wantest to destroy the one thy lovest the most.”

     “I… I…”

     Heinwald could feel his heart shatter. He felt completely powerless, but Nyarlathotep was right. It was his curse, his responsibility to bear. Even though it would mean discarding the only source of happiness he had left, Heinwald would have to let Curran go. He would rather Curran live a happy life than for both of them to be happy for a little while longer, only for Curran to die a horrible death by Heinwald’s hands. He doused the fire, putting the book back into the globe and closing it off.

     “It appears thy decision is clear,” Nyarlathotep said, “Thou hast made the right choice.”

     “Don’t think you’ve won,” Heinwald hissed, “I will keep fighting against you until I have my body back. Then I will return to Curran. Even if it takes years, decades, even if he has moved on and forgotten about me, as long as I can see him after my curse has been lifted, I will be fine.”

     Heinwald left the library, slamming the door behind him. He proceeded out to the garden, watching Curran hard at work. Curran looked up from the dampened dirt of the garden to smile at Heinwald, wiping his brow of sweat.

     “Done in the library already?” he asked.

     “Yes…” Heinwald sighed, “Curran, I’d like you to come inside with me.”

     Curran set down his gardening tools and stood up.

     “Ok,” he replied, “Is it about dinner tonight?” I saw that we had some pretty good-looking basil in the herb garden. Maybe I could make some pesto pasta for us.”

     “That sounds delicious…” Heinwald said, sadness hanging in his voice.

     Curran followed him inside, into the comfort of the foyer. Heinwald blushed, tilting his head upward and pulling Curran in close for a kiss. He wanted to savor this sweet feeling, to memorize the soft press of his lips, knowing very well it would be his last. Heinwald’s tongue slid into Curran’s mouth, wriggling around as if trying to remember every last crevice. He didn’t want to stop. He wished they could keep kissing forever. Hesitantly, Heinwald pulled away, kissing at Curran’s jawline, his scruffy goatee, his prominent Adam’s apple. He trailed his tongue down his tender neck, stopping at the glowing sigil on his neck. Tears welled up in his eyes as he bit down into the purple mark, licking and sucking the mana back into his own body. As he pulled away, Curran felt the spot on his neck. The pulsing warmth of the sigil was gone.

     “Heinwald…” he gaped, “What did you…”

     “I’ve taken back the sigil,” Heinwald choked, trying to maintain his composure as tears spilt from his eyes, “You’re no longer under my domain. You’re free.”

     “I… I’m free?”

     “Yes. Go on. Leave the manor. Go back to your home town and enjoy your life.”

     Curran wrapped his arms tightly around Heinwald, caressing his hair.

     “Heinwald,” he whispered, “I don’t want to leave. This is my home.”

     “You can’t stay Curran…” Heinwald whimpered, “I don’t want you to go… But if you stay any longer… then I… I’ll become a horrible monster… I’ll become Nyarlathotep and I’ll kill you. I don’t want that. I don’t want to hurt you Curran. It hurts me so much to let you go, but it would hurt me even more to bring about your death.”

     “You’ll kill me? Where did you get that crazy idea?”

     “When I blacked out… Nyarlathotep showed me a horrible vision… a vision of your corpse, completely marred at my hands…”

     “Heinwald…”

     “If you love something, let it go… Curran, you will find happiness. Leave here and forget about me.”

     Curran pulled Heinwald into a loving kiss, wiping away Heinwald’s tears as he held him close.

     “I’ll never forget you Heinwald,” he vowed, “I will find out how to break your curse. Even if you push me out, even if you’ve turned into a monster beyond recognition, I swear I’ll come back for you; because you’ll never be a monster to me, and I’ll be damned if I lose you to Nyarlathotep.”

     Heinwald sniffled as tears poured out of his eyes, crying and bemoaning their parting.

     “I’ll wait for you,” he bawled, “I’ll wait for you until the end of time. I’ll never stop loving you Curran.”

   “I love you Heinwald,” Curran comforted, “I swear I’ll be back.”

     Curran gave Heinwald one last kiss, a soft chaste one on his lips, yet it held all of the weight of his promise, all the sincerity behind his vow to return for him. Curran slowly pulled out of the kiss, separating from Heinwald as he headed to the door. Heinwald tried to remain strong as he walked out of the manor, but he couldn’t hold it any longer as soon as the door closed. He fell to his knees, crying his eyes out on the floor of the foyer.

     “Curran,” he sobbed, “Curran please come back. I already miss you. Curran!”

     His cries couldn’t reach him. His despair, his misery would go without comfort. Once again, Heinwald was all alone in his manor.


	18. Tuer le Bête

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! I've been con crunching for Anime Expo.

     Lathna lay down in her cot in the orphanage, a book in her hands. She gazed out the window as the sun began to set over the horizon, the sky melting into a glowing orange. While all of the other orphans were enjoying their last few hours of play of the day, Lathna chose to read instead, trying to escape from the pain of Curran being a captive for so long. She sighed, gazing out the window to the vibrant sunset, when suddenly she spotted a figure approaching the orphanage. She rubbed her eyes, trying to ensure she wasn’t just seeing things. As the figure came closer, a smile stretched across her face.

     “Big brother!” she cheered.

     Lathna opened up the window to the orphanage as Curran ran towards her. He crawled inside, hugging her tightly, stroking her hair as tears of joy spilled from her eyes.

     “Big brother! Big brother!” she cried, “I was so worried… I thought you’d never escape… Is the monster’s spell gone?”

     “Yeah,” Curran replied, “He removed it and let me go.”

     Lathna looked puzzled as she pulled away. Just weeks ago, Curran hated the monster of the abandoned estate. Now he seemed almost sad to be away from it.

     “It let you go?” Lathna wondered.

     “Yeah…” Curran sighed, “I had to come see you first before anything else… And I had to tell you that I’m going to be going away for a while…”

     “But… but you just got back…”

     “I know… but I need to go to Alberia… to Caldia… anywhere I can find a mage who’s talented enough to break a horrible curse…”

     “But I thought… I thought your curse was gone.”

     “It’s not for me Lathna. It’s for Heinwald.”

     “Who’s Heinwald?”

     “He’s the one living in that manor.”

     “The monster has another prisoner?”

     “No he’s…”

     Before Curran could explain, the door to the orphanage’s bedroom creaked open. Alex walked into the room, unaware that Curran was inside with Lathna.

     “Lathna,” Alex said from the doorway, “You really should go out and play with the other kids. It’s…”

     She gasped, running over to Curran and wrapping her arms around him.

     “You esca- I mean… came back from your pilgrimage!” she sighed.

     Curran rubbed his neck, shrugging her off, “Yeah, but Alex…”

     “I need to take you to the tavern to celebrate,” Alex interrupted.

     “Alex, I really don’t have time. I have to leave as soon as…”

     “Can’t you just leave in the morning? Come on I’ll treat you to a flagon of ale.”

     Curran gritted his teeth. He could never resist a cold mug of ale, especially when someone else offered to pay for it. He looked over to Lathna, then back to Alex, then back out the window.

     “Well,” he said, “I suppose one drink won’t hurt.”

     “That’s the spirit,” Alex smiled, “Lathna, we’ll be right back.”

     Lathna hesitantly nodded her head. Something seemed off to her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

     “Ok…” she replied, “Please come back soon, big brother.”

     Alex patted Curran on the back, leading him out of the orphanage’s bedroom. She closed the door behind them, guiding him out of the orphanage and into the streets of town. Curran noticed that as they headed to the village, Alex would occasionally nod her head at people in the street. Their interaction wasn’t the typical “how are you” nod; it seemed more like a secret code. Then again, Alex was a Church assassin. Perhaps she was gathering intel for a reconnaissance mission. They soon arrived at the tavern’s entrance, Alex opening the door for Curran to walk inside. The buxom tavern maiden smiled brightly as Curran walked in.

     “Curran!” she beamed, “Long time no see big boy!”

     Multiple heads turned at the sound of Curran’s name. Some of the faces he recognized; fellow inquisitors, paladyns, and his drinking buddy Vanessa, all of who came up to welcome him upon his return. However, he didn’t recognize some of the other, more shady faces that lit up at the sound of his name, the looks in their eyes filled with greed and bloodlust.

     “We’ll take two ales,” Alex ordered, sitting down with Curran at the bar, “So, you went on a pilgrimage to Alberia and are already heading back? Why bother visiting if only for one night.”

     Curran swallowed hard. He almost completely forgot that he told Lathna to tell everyone that he was on a pilgrimage.

     “Umm…” he stammered, “Well, I was… I just wanted to come back to at least see Lathna again. Even if only for a little bit.”

     “I see,” Alex replied, “Then how was Alberia? There certainly must be a lot of turmoil within their branch for you to extend the pilgrimage.”

     “Yeah…”

     “You know Curran, you’ve always been a wonderfully pious man. You’ve never been the type to lie or take advantage of Ilia’s kindness… Why then are you doing so now?”

     Color faded from Curran’s face.

     “What are you getting at Alex?” he choked defensively.

     “You didn’t go to Alberia,” Alex hissed, “I know you’re lying, Curran.”

     “You would dare insist that I would take advantage of the Church after everything they did for me? What kind of man do you take me for?”

     “I wouldn’t dare call you a liar, unless of course, you had no choice. I know everything Curran. The past few weeks you weren’t on a pious pilgrimage in Alberia. No, you were being held hostage by a monster.”

     “Who told you…”

     “Lathna did. She was so worried for you Curran. I can only imagine the hell you went through.”

     Curran balled his hands into fists. He couldn’t believe that Alex knew about his time as Heinwald’s “prisoner.” Then again, hiding information from such a gifted Church assassin was a nigh impossible task. But she didn’t know the half of it. Heinwald wasn’t a monster. He was a victim. He was human. He was his lover.

     “Hell?” Curran replied, “Actually, I kind of enjoyed it there. Hein… I mean, the master was very kind and hospitable. The rumors of him being a monster are quite far fetched. He’s eccentric, but he’s certainly not a monster.”

     Alex pulled her hood down, the aura around her turning sinister.

     “Does it still have some sort of spying device on you?” Alex asked.

     Her eyes darted to his neck, carefully examining every open part of skin. She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from behind the bar, writing something down and passing it to Curran. He picked up the piece of paper, reading it to himself.

     _“Give a thumbs down if it’s spying on you,”_ Curran read off the paper.

     He shook his head, “He’s not spying on me. Honestly Alex, I know you’re an assassin, but you can be a bit too paranoid some times, you know?”

     “That _thing_ held you captive for almost a month Curran.”

     “He’s not a thing, Alex! He’s a person just like you or me.”

     “Did the beast blind you? Lathna told me it was a hideous creature with black wings and horns.”

     “He’s human. He was cursed to look like that. But I know that I can find a way to break the curse… I have to try… That’s why I’m going to Alberia. I’m going to lift his curse no matter what.”

     Alex banged her fist on the bar counter, her calm composure burning into a rage.

     “It still has you under its spell…” she cursed, “It brainwashed you!”

     “Brainwashed?” Curran replied, “No, Alex. I swear I’m telling the truth. He’s human! You have to believe me.”

     “I’m sorry Curran… You leave me no choice. This is for your own good…”

     Curran felt a prick on the side of his neck. He hazily, but angrily looked over to Alex, her tranquilizer dart poking out of his skin.

     “Why…” he coughed, “Alex… Don’t…”

     Curran collapsed on the floor, unconscious. Alex stood up from the bar, tying up his arms with stray rope to ensure Curran wouldn’t be going anywhere when he eventually did wake up.

     “Damn, did ya really have to knock the guy out?” Vanessa hollered, “That’s a bit overkill.”

     “That beast is using him as a puppet,” Alex asserted, “I fear if we left him conscious, he would fight against our cause.”

     “So are we finally going after that beast and his treasure?” a Sylvan treasure hunter shouted from across the room, chomping at the bit in anticipation.

     “Yes,” Alex heaved, standing up on the bar to gather the attention of her army, “EVERYONE! The day has finally come! Curran may have escaped from that monster’s manor, but his soul still remains captive. But we shall free him. We will slay the beast, free Curran from his spell, and take all of the long abandoned loot!”

     The room erupted in cheers and battle cries, tavern customers brandishing their weapons eagerly. A large mob of villagers had already started forming outside of the tavern, their shouts audible to even nearly unconscious Curran within.

     “KILL THE BEAST! KILL THE BEAST!” they chanted.

     “No…” Curran thought.

     As he slowly faded out of consciousness, his heart sunk like a lead block in a pond. He felt so powerless. It sounded like the entire village was coming for Heinwald, and they were out for blood.

     “Heinwald…” he thought, “Fly away… Fly far away and get out of there before it’s too late…”

***

     Heinwald locked himself in his library, slinking down into one of the armchairs. He felt like a part of him was missing, like he was empty and broken without Curran by his side. Even in his library, the sanctuary where he often came to find solace, Heinwald couldn’t shake the feeling of loneliness consuming him. He shook his head, sighing as he looked out the window to his garden. Pumpkins, squash, and greens bloomed in the now fertile soil. That bounty was all thanks to Curran’s determination. He could picture Curran looking up from his hard work in the garden, wiping the sweat from his brow as he smiled happily at Heinwald. Heinwald backed away from the window, the hollow memory only making him miss Curran more. His stomach grumbled, suppertime fast approaching.

     “Maybe I’ll feel better if I eat something…” Heinwald said to himself.

     He left the library, heading into the kitchen to get something to eat. Heinwald opened up the pantry, noticing his supplies of fresh meats, eggs, and dairy products had nearly run dry. It appeared he was back on the dried meat diet. Heinwald sliced off a piece of dried venison, sinking his fangs into the tough meat. It was gamey and salty, leaving him unsatisfied as he continued to eat it. He couldn’t believe he used to live off of this and pickled vegetables alone. After tasting Curran’s cooking, he had become spoiled and could barely stomach preserved meat. He missed Curran more and more with each bite, reminiscing on the delicious meals he cooked for him. The risotto, the eggs benedict, their vegetarian feast: Heinwald tried to imagine the delectable creations to overwrite the dry meat that he forced himself to eat.

     As Heinwald swallowed his last bite of meat, he heard loud shouts of hatred, only growing louder with time. He peeked out the window, his pupils shrinking in shock. A mass of people was approaching his manor, weapons and torches in hand. Though he couldn’t initially discern what they were saying, their words became clearer as they got closer.

     “KILL THE BEAST! KILL THE BEAST!” they shouted.

     Heinwald’s heart dropped to his stomach. Did Curran do this? Did he send them here to kill him? Did he… despise him all along?

     “No…” he said to himself, “Curran would never… he would never…”

     He shook his head, trying to silence the screams of anxiety, the fear that Curran secretly hated him. Heinwald didn’t have time to worry about that. He needed to barricade his door, to protect himself from the people coming for his head. Heinwald frantically scrambled to the foyer, sliding doors and pedestals up against the door, hoping it would be enough to keep the mob out. He ran to his closet, grabbing his staff so he could defend himself. He swallowed hard as the shouts of anger and malice became deafening. The mob was right outside his door.

     From the outside, Alex raged as she tried to kick in the door to the manor. Thanks to Heinwald’s barricade, it wasn’t moving at all.

     “SHIT!” she cursed, “Did the beast know we were coming? ANYONE WHO USES AN AX! COME FORWARD AND CHOP IN THE DOOR!”

     Vanessa and a crowd of mercs approached the door, hacking away at the wood to find a barricade of furniture. Alex peeked over the barricade, her eyes making contact with Heinwald’s. He froze as she scowled at him.

     “There it is…” she hissed, “It’s hideous…”

     Heinwald stumbled back as the mob’s weapons shreaded through his barricade.

     “No…” he whimpered, “GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!”

     “There’s nowhere to hide!” Alex shouted, “Everyone! Keep at it! We’re almost to the monster’s lair!”

     Heinwald raised his staff, trying to focus on channeling the mana from around his home into his spell.

   “Call of Chaos!” he exclaimed.

     Dark tendrils rose from the ground, wrapping around the ankles of many of his assailants. Members of the mob shrieked as the dark magic bound them in place. It wouldn’t keep them for long, but it would at least stall them.

     “The beast’s magic...” Alex grumbled, “HEALERS! WORK ON DISPELLING HIS TENDRILS!”

   Heinwald ran upstairs, locking himself in his room. His house was under attack by an army, and Curran wasn’t there to help him. He curled into a ball, shivering in fear at the inevitable approach of the angry mob.

     “Curran…” he cried, “Gretchen… mother… Help me… Save me!”

     He heard the sound of footsteps stomping into his manor. They were inside his home. Heinwald felt violated, sick to his stomach as so many strangers stormed his estate. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that no one would check his room.

     _“Fly away_ ,” a familiar voice rang out through his head.

     “Curran?” Heinwald whimpered.

     _“Fly away…”_ Curran’s voice repeated, _“Fly far away and get out of there before it’s too late…”_

     Heinwald opened the window of his room, the brisk night air stinging cold against his skin. There was still a fair amount of people outside, but at least it would be more difficult for them to attack him midair. He gathered his courage as he leaned his torso out the windowsill, stretching his wings to their full span. As someone knocked in the door of his room, Heinwald jumped out, flying away from his home. He didn’t look back. They could be burning the entire place down for all he knew. He just wanted to be able to escape with his life.

***

     “HEINWALD!” Curran shouted as he jolted awake.

     He looked around frantically. Lathna and a cleric from the medical ward of the Church gazed down at him.

     “Big brother!” Lathna exclaimed, “Thank goodness you’re awake!”

     “How…” he stammered, “How did you get here? How long was I out?”

     “I followed you to the tavern. Alex was acting really shady and it didn’t seem right so I snuck out. Once she knocked you out, I ran to the church to get Miss Hildegard to wake you up. I think… I think it’s been about ten minutes?”

     Curran rubbed at his neck. The dart was gone, but he still felt a bit groggy from the tranquilizer. As he struggled to his feet, Hildegard grabbed his arm.

     “Don’t push yourself,” she said, “I just healed you. You need to recover.”

     “I have to go save Heinwald…” Curran struggled.

     “You’ve mentioned that Heinwald a lot…” Lathna said, “Wouldn’t it be good for him if they killed the monster?”

     “Lathna…” Curran explained, “Heinwald was the one who held me captive. I know he may look scary, but he’s not a monster. He’s a kind, innocent human being. I have to save him.”

     “He’s human?” Lathna wondered, “Why does he look like a monster then?”

     “Because a monster cursed him to look that way,” Curran continued.

     “That’s like a book I read!” Lathna exclaimed, “Will true love’s kiss break the curse?”

     Curran bit his lip. He and Heinwald surely did a lot more than kissing, but his love for him was undeniable.

     “Well…” Curran sighed, “I think his curse is a bit more complicated than that… But I’m not going to give up on him. I can’t let Alex kill him. I…”

     “You love him,” Lathna interrupted.

     “I do, Lathna,” he replied, “I want to make him happy. I want to be there for him no matter what. I can’t let Alex take away someone I’ve come to love so much.”

     Lathna’s eyes glowed with childlike wonder, as if Curran was living one of the fairy tales she was so fond of reading.

     “Go save him, big brother!” Lathna encouraged, “I know you can do it!”

     Curran hugged Lathna tight, “I will. I’ll come back with him, and I’ll introduce you to him again.”

     He rushed out of the tavern, running through the dimly lit streets to the field outside of town. A large crowd surrounded Heinwald’s manor. He hid behind the tree on hill as Alex stormed out of the front door, clearly enraged.

     “The monster escaped,” she shouted to the crowd, “It flew away.”

     Curran heaved a sigh of relief. He looked up to the sky. The night vision that Heinwald had given him allowed Curran to make out his shimmering wings as Heinwald soared through the night sky.

     “Thank goodness, he’s safe,” Curran sighed.

     Suddenly a smile twisted across Alex’s face.

     “ARCHERY BRIGADE! LIGHT MAGE BRIGADE! THIS IS WHERE YOU COME IN!” she announced, “Light mages: illuminate the sky with your magic! Archers: light your arrows aflame and shoot it down!”

     Curran’s heart sunk as the crowd prepared to shoot Heinwald down. He rushed into the night, trying to catch up with Heinwald to at least warn him. Rays of light shone into the dark sky, revealing Heinwald as he flew through the clouds. Curran froze as flaming arrows loosed into the sky above. Heinwald skillfully dodged the incoming arrows, flitting through the sky as the sharp points grazed his clothes.

     “Damn it all, he’s dodging them…” Alex cursed, “HAWK! IT’S UP TO YOU KNOW!”

     “Understood,” a hunter with a feather-like scar replied.

     He lit his arrow on fire, pulling it back adeptly and loosing it to the sky. Heinwald tried his hardest to dodge the incoming shot, but the arrow seemed to move with him, almost as if it were following him. A sharp pain ran through Heinwald’s body as the arrow pierced his chest. He coughed up blood, his wings going limp as he plummeted from the night sky. Curran ran as fast as he could, hoping to catch Heinwald as he fell like a bird who had been shot down by a skillful hunter. He landed limp in Curran’s arms, making the two of them fall into the tall grass of the field.

     “Cu…rran…” Heinwald choked.

     Curran stroked the white hair from Heinwald’s eyes, holding him close and looking in his eyes. Blood pooled around Heinwald’s chest, the arrow planted deep in his heart. No matter how skilled of a healer Heinwald was, the wound looked nearly fatal. Tears pricked at the corner of Curran’s eyes, flowing down his cheeks and onto Heinwald’s face.

     “Curran…” Heinwald smiled, “You… you came back…”

     “I’m sorry Heinwald,” Curran sobbed, “I… I couldn’t stop them… They…”

     “Don’t cry. I… I’m so happy.”

     “You’re wounded. I have to get help… I…”

     “Curran… don’t kid yourself. I’m going to die.”

     “You’re not going to die… I’m not going to have you die on me…”

     Heinwald shakily lifted his palm to Curran’s face, his hand cold to the touch.

     “It’s ok…” Heinwald whispered, “Curran… The past few weeks… have been the happiest moments of my entire life. I never thought… I never thought I’d be happy again. I never thought anyone… could love me…”

     Curran’s tears continued to fall onto Heinwald’s face, washing away the blood dripping from his mouth.

     “Stop…” Curran sobbed, “Stop talking like you’re about to die…”

     “Curran…” Heinwald choked, “I don’t want to die… I don’t want to die when my happiness is so close… at least… I’ll get to die in the arms of the one I love…”

     Curran hugged Heinwald tight, pressing a kiss onto Heinwald’s cold but soft lips.

     “Curran…” Heinwald sighed, “Can I ask one more thing of you… before I die…”

     “Anything for you…” Curran replied.

     “Tell me that you love me… one more time…”

     “I… I love you Heinwald… I love you with all of my heart and I’ll never stop.”

   Tears leaked from Heinwald’s fading eyes.

     “Thank you Curran…” he coughed, “I… I love y…”

     Heinwald’s hand fell limp to the ground as color faded from his face and the light of life left his eyes. Curran felt like time had stopped. Like he was in the middle of a horrible, never-ending nightmare. He shook Heinwald’s body in disbelief, praying for a response, even the slightest sign of life.

     “Heinwald…” Curran whimpered, “Heinwald… wake up! Please wake up! You can’t die on me!”

     Curran placed his hand as Heinwald’s neck. His pulseless skin was already going cold.

     “No…” Curran bawled, “NO! HEINWALD! HEINWALD!”

     He hugged Heinwald’s body tight, cold blood staining the white cloth of his shirt. Curran was never the type to cry, but he couldn’t stop his tears from flowing. Heinwald was gone. He was dead, lifeless in his arms. The crowd of mercenaries, treasure hunters, and villagers formed around Curran, Alex pushing through the sea of people to see Curran cradling the “beast’s” corpse.

     “Curran,” she sighed, “Its ok. The beast is dead.”

     Curran clenched his teeth, his grip on Heinwald’s body tightening as Alex approached him.

     “DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!” Curran snapped, “YOU MURDERER! YOU MONSTER! YOU KILLED HIM!”

     “Curran…” Alex said, slowly walking towards him.

     “You took him from me… HOW COULD YOU CALL YOURSELF A SERVANT OF THE GODDESS? YOU KILLED AN INNOCENT MAN!”

     “The spell must still be in effect…”

     “Spell? You think he put a spell on me? I LOVED HIM ALEX! I LOVED HIM AND YOU KILLED HIM!”

     Black mana began to pour from the orifices of Heinwald’s body. It stung at Curran’s skin as the mana enveloped Heinwald’s corpse. Nyarlathotep was beginning to take over.

     “Curran! Get away from it!” Alex shouted, “It’s emanating black mana! It’ll consume and corrupt you if you stay…”

     “NO!” Curran disputed, “I’M NOT LEAVING HIM!”

     Curran felt like the black mana was eating him down to the bone. It hurt. It stung. It was eating him alive. But he wouldn’t leave Heinwald’s side. He didn’t care if the black mana swallowed him whole. He wanted to be with Heinwald to the bitter end. Curran shrieked in pain as the black mana flared up around them, the crowd starting to disperse as the mana rose around him like an inferno. He squeezed his eyes shut, the pain enough to knock him out, when suddenly it stopped. Curran opened his eyes to find himself alone in a world of darkness, with Heinwald’s body nowhere to be found.


	19. Le Beau et le Bête

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! I've had a super hectic week and finally got time to write it last night! Hope you enjoy!

     Curran grimaced under the pressure of the all-encompassing darkness. The acrid air was laden with noxious gas, choking Curran as the potent stench of death filled his nose. The darkness was blinding, oppressive, sadistic. He wanted to crumble, to wither away into nothingness to escape this pain, but he picked himself up, tying his scarf over his nose and mouth to filter the poison from the air. The Abyss was a hellish place, but he would gladly brave this harsh territory if it meant rescuing the one he loved.

     “I’m coming for you, Heinwald,” Curran coughed.

     As he trudged into the oppressive darkness, Curran’s thoughts were assaulted by an amalgamation of voices, taunting and laughing at him.

     “Thou wouldst come here?” it snickered, “What a fool thou art!”

     Curran gritted his teeth as he continued his search.

     “Shut it ya damn monster,” Curran growled, “I came here for a reason and I’m not leaving without him…”

     Nyarlathotep’s sadistic laughter echoed in his head, ringing loudly in his ears. Its distorted voice ate away at his sanity, prodding him in an attempt to push his anger into the threshold of madness.

     “The Abyss is not easily escaped,” Nyarlathotep hissed, “Even if thou dost find him, wilt thou even be able to navigate your way home? Thou wilst wander endlessly in our labyrinth of darkness.”

     “I will find him…” Curran said, filled with determination, “I’ll find him and I’ll bring him home.”

     “Thou pursuist a fool’s errand, but we shall humor thee. Thy struggle will prove great entertainment.”

     The beast was mocking him, spitting in the face of his determination and love. But even with Nyarlathotep’s badgering, even with the hostile environment of the Abyss around him, Curran wouldn’t waver. He would save Heinwald, even if it meant wandering through the Abyss without a clear end in sight. The acidic gas of the Abyss’ atmosphere stung his eyes, making them squint and water as he continued his search. There were no trees, no hills, no landmarks to indicate where Curran was or where he was going. It truly was a labyrinth of nothingness. He could be walking in circles for all he knew, but he refused to give up.

     _“…ve up…”_ a delicate voice whispered.

     Curran froze. He had never heard this voice before, but it felt comforting and familiar in a cruel world like the Abyss.

     _“Don’t give up,”_ it repeated, _“He’s nearby. Mon fils, ton amour… Find the light. Find the light and he will be there.”_

     “Find the light…” Curran thought.

     Light in the Abyss was like looking for a needle in a haystack, but the kind encouragement of the unfamiliar voice gave him hope. Curran kept his eyes peeled, looking around for even the smallest speck of light, the tiniest shimmer that would guide him to Heinwald. Suddenly, Curran spotted a faint flicker of white in the distance. It was small and dim, but in comparison to the darkness around him, there was no denying that it was “the light.” He rushed towards it, his eyes and heart focused on the one waiting for him at that spot.

   As he reached the light, Curran spotted a figure coming into view. A man was crucified on a glowing violet pillar. Dark tendrils extended from the ground beneath him, binding his limbs and sucking the life force from his pale body. The tendrils pulsed across his fair skin, wriggling and assaulting his nude form. His crimson eyes were glazed over, as if he had given up, given in to the almost sensual feeding frenzy of the tendrils. They tugged at his long, black hair and suckled at his nipples as if they were attempting to breastfeed, assaulting and penetrating every orifice of his body.

     “Heinwald…” Curran wretched.

     He was disgusted. Heinwald was being tortured, raped by tendrils of darkness as his life was sapped. Nyarlathotep was far too cruel, choosing such a horrific method of torture to take over Heinwald’s body.

     “Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here,” Curran assured.

     Curran reached up the pillar, trying to pry Heinwald from his bindings. The tendrils stung at his skin, swatting him away as he attempted to free Heinwald. Curran gritted his teeth through the pain, tearing away at the tendrils with his bare hands. If only he had his ax, freeing Heinwald would be easy. The flesh of his arms began to bleed as the tendrils fought back, refusing to give up their prey.

     “Thy arms wilt be ripped to shreads if thou continuest,” Nyarlathotep hissed, “He is but a shell that our soul will soon inhabit.”

     “I can keep this up.” Curran panted, wincing as the gashes on his arms grew deeper, “A few cuts are nothing compared to what you’re doing to him… You’re horrible…”

     A tendril slapped Curran’s face, gashing his forehead and knocking him to the floor. He wiped the blood from his face, staggering as he stood back up and approached the pillar once more.

     “Thou wouldst continue?” Nyarlathotep cackled, “Art thou a fool? Or perhaps thou art a masochist.”

     “Rip my arms off for all I care,” Curran cursed, “I love him. I won’t let you keep hurting him like this…”

     “Thou hast been entertaining, but I begin to grow tired of thy desperation. Even with the sight of thy beloved being defiled, even with thy painful wounds, thou showest no sign of despair. If anything, thou lookest more determined than before.”

     “I won’t give up until both Heinwald and I are out of here…”

     Nyarlathotep paused, watching as Curran continued his struggle against the tendrils. It was shocked that Curran hadn’t given up. Perhaps it could have even more fun with him. Nyarlathotep growled, making the tendrils of darkness retreat back into the ground and Heinwald fall into Curran’s arms. Curran gently stroked Heinwald’s hair, holding him tightly in his arms. His eyes fluttered shut and his breathing eased as he fell asleep in Curran’s arms. After the torture Heinwald had just endured, Curran figured that some rest was well deserved.

     “Heinwald!” he said, tears of relief spilling from his eyes, “Everything is going to be ok. We’ll get out of here and go back home.”

     “We thinkest not,” Nyarlathotep mocked.

     The terrifying dragon emerged from the abyss, standing menacingly over the pair. Curran stood his ground, gripping Heinwald tighter to protect him.

     “Didst thou really thinkest we wouldst simply release him?” Nyarlathotep hissed, “We have been entertained by thy attempts, so we wouldst suggest a possible deal with thou.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “We have for thee, two possible options. Here beist thy first option: thy mettle has impressed even a God like us, therefore, we shall let thee return to world of the living, thy wounds completely healed. However, thou willst return alone.”

     “Without Heinwald?”

     “For thy second option, thou couldst leave the Abyss with Heinwald, but on one condition. Thou willst fight us in a duel. If thou winnest, both of thee shall be released, but if thou losest, both of thee will remain in the abyss and we will take over Heinwald’s body.”

     Curran looked down to Heinwald, still fast asleep in his arms. He kissed him gently on the forehead and set him down on the ground.

     “Hast thou made thy decision?” Nyarlathotep asked.

     “I have…” Curran replied, “Prepare yourself dragon. I’ll accept your challenge for a duel.”

     Nyarlathotep’s maw gaped open, a foul cacophony of laughter spilling from its mouth.

     “Thou truly art a fool,” it sneered, “Thou truly believest that thou, a mere mortal, can beat us in a duel?”

     “I have to. I have to beat you for Heinwald’s sake.”

     “Fighting us barehanded is a death wish. Thus we shall at least grant thee a weapon to battle with.”

     Nyarlathotep growled, making black mana swirl around Curran’s hand. The mana materialized into a sharp ax, pulsing with dark energy. Curran gave the ax a few test swings. Despite it being forged from black mana, the weapon was lightweight and seemed sturdy. Perhaps he would have a fighting chance against Nyarlathotep.

     “I never thought you’d want to make it a fair fight,” Curran grinned, “But since you offered me a weapon, I won’t hold back.”

     “A handicap for ourself would make the battle more interesting for us,” Nyarlathotep sneered, “And your defeat even more satisfying.”

     “Enough talking… COME AT ME YOU DAMN MONSTER!”

     Curran lunged toward’s Nyarlathotep, brandishing his ax at the Abyssal beast. Nyarlathotep growled, tendrils of darkness and black mana swirling around, as if it were preparing a shield against his opponent. Curran sliced through the tendrils with ease, yelling a battle cry as he came closer to Nyarlathotep. He clashed against the fierce claws of the beast, metal clanging against the sturdy scales and sharp talons. The dragon cackled in joy as he and Curran fought, claws meeting flesh, metal meeting scales. It had been a while since Nyarlathotep had enjoyed the thrill of battle, and even longer since it had fought someone this determined. It would truly savor crushing that unwavering resolve, extinguishing that fire of fury burning in Curran’s eyes.

***

     Heinwald shivered, the cold darkness of the Abyss chilling him to the bone. Though his bindings were gone, he could still feel the slimy tendrils of darkness wriggling across and inside of his body. It was a phantom pain that he was certain would haunt his soul until the end of time. Yet these torturous sensations seemed to be the only ones he could feel. Heinwald couldn’t feel his arms, his legs, his body. Where was his body? What was his body? Was this what it felt like to be a soul condemned to the abyss?

   Heinwald wanted to cry, but he had no eyes with which to do so. He wanted to scream, but he lacked a mouth, silenced for the rest of eternity. He was just a soul, his body now a lifeless husk and soon to be property of Nyarlathotep. This was his punishment. Heinwald knew this was his fate. He knew that inevitably he would be nothing but a soul, tortured forever in the abyss, but he never expected it to be so soon. Heinwald wished he could have spent a little bit more time with Curran before facing his fate. Maybe it was greed, maybe it was regret, maybe it was love, but Heinwald felt his time with Curran had been cut far too short. He was so tired. Heinwald wanted to stay asleep, to never wake up, to fade away until he disappeared into the darkness.

     _“Réveille…”_ a soft voice whispered.

     Heinwald had no ears for which to hear, yet this comforting, warm voice spoke directly to his soul.

     _“Réveille-toi…”_ the voice continued, _“Il combat pour toi… Mais sa battaille est difficile… Il souffre… S’il vous plaît… Rêveille-toi!”_

     Heinwald jolted awake, regaining his senses as his soul returned to his body. Pain, fear, cold, anxiety, all assaulted him full force, but at the very least these sensations reminded him that he was still alive, and that his body still belonged to him. Cries of agony, roars of a beast, steel striking scales, these sounds of battle rung out in Heinwald’s head. He rubbed his eyes, trying to focus his vision even in the darkness of the Abyss. His jaw dropped when he saw the battle unfolding before him. Curran was battered, bruised, and bloodied, fighting for his life against Nyarlathotep. His body was covered in gashes and his white clothes were soaked in his own crimson blood. Blood dripped down his forehead into his eyes, burning with the will to fight and the resolve to win. Despite his severe wounds, it appeared that he had dealt quite a bit of damage to Nyarlathotep, as the beast limped and winced with each attack against Curran.

     “Curran…” Heinwald whimpered, “What are you doing… you’ll… you’ll die…”

     Heinwald staggered to his feet, limping over to the battle scene. His body was still weak from the energy Nyarlathotep had drained from him, but if he got close enough… if he managed to salvage some of the mana from this accursed place… he could heal Curran… he could help him win.

     “A-abyssal… Connection…” Heinwald mumbled, raising his hand to direct his empowering spell at Curran.

     Curran felt a surge of energy pulse through his body, his strength and will to fight increasing dramatically. The swings of his ax hit harder, the wounds he inflicted upon his opponent cut deeper. He almost forgot about the pain of his own wounds, the blisters forming on his hands from gripping his ax as tight as he could. He could win this.

     “You can do this… Curran…” Heinwald choked.

     The beast grinned, cackling as Curran made his next move.

     “FOOL! THOU HAST LEFT THYSELF OPEN!” it howled.

     Nyarlathotep smacked Curran’s ax from his hand, knocking it far away.

     “SHIT!” Curran cursed.

     The beast raised its paw, pinning Curran to the ground. Curran’s breath was knocked out of his chest as he hit the solid ground beneath him. He coughed up blood as the beast’s talons dug into him. Heinwald froze in place. Curran was winning. How could he be overpowered so easily, and so quickly? Heinwald dropped to his knees in horror as Nyarlathotep unhinged it’s gaping maw. Drool dribbled onto Curran’s face as the beast bared its fangs, preparing to deal the fatal blow. Heinwald couldn’t watch. This was torture. Curran was going to be gored to death by a horrible monster, and all Heinwald could do was watch.

     _“ARRETEZ!”_ the delicate voice from before shouted, _“APPELLE DU PARADIS!”_

     Bands of light descended from the sky above, binding Nyarlathotep in place. Smoke rose from its flesh as the light rays singed past its armor of scales into its tender flesh. It was paralyzed and in severe pain, its maw inches away from Curran’s face. Was this divine intervention? Heinwald had never put much faith in the Goddess, Elysium, or the Ilian faith, but this deus ex machina could make him a believer. He couldn’t let this chance pass him by. Heinwald rushed to pick up Curran’s ax, brandishing it above Nyarlathoteps neck. With one clean swing, Heinwald sliced off the beast’s head.

     The disembodied head shrieked, its body dissolving into black mana. Curran lay shocked on the ground beneath them, gazing at Heinwald with his ax in hand.

     “You will not deny me my happiness, Nyarlathotep,” Heinwald panted, “I will not give up my life when I have found a reason to live.”

     “We should have known…” Nyarlathotep sputtered, “Thou had lost thy qualifications as our vessel the moment thou foundest love, a reason for living on. We will concede in this duel, but not for thy sake. We must recover so we can find a vessel who is truly worthy to bring about our revival.”

     The beast’s head dissipated into the black mana, its voice fading into nothingness. The Abyss too began to crumble, cracks appearing in the darkness to make way for a world of heavenly light. Heinwald helped Curran to his feet, hugging him close as the world caved in around them. The pair became surrounded by a calming light, Curran’s wounds healing over into scars and life and energy returning to Heinwald’s body. Their new environment was nothing like the darkness of the Abyss. They found themselves in a beautiful field, light shining down upon the delicate flowers fluttering in the breeze. A mighty tree stood proud upon a hill in the middle of the field with a woman in white standing underneath. Her cocoa brown hair was tied back into a neat bun and she smiled gently. Heinwald let go of Curran, dashing towards the woman on the top of the field.

     “Mother!” he cried.

     Curran ran to catch up with Heinwald, finding him at the top of the hill with the woman. She hugged him gently, her crimson eyes gazing at him comfortingly.

     “Calmes-toi mon fils,” she assured, “Tu me manque à moi.”

     “Vous me manquez à moi aussi,” Heinwald sobbed.

     Charlotte pulled away from Heinwald, smiling at Curran.

     “At last we meet, Curran,” she grinned.

     Curran recognized that voice. She was the one who was encouraging him this entire time. He had no idea how she intervened, moreso how she could be talking to him face to face, unless of course…

     “You must be Lady Charlotte,” Curran said, “But if I might ask, where are we? Are Heinwald and I… dead?”

     “Not quite,” Charlotte explained, “I suppose the best way to describe your condition is that your souls are in stasis. This space is on a plane parallel to the world of the living, but it is not the world of the dead. In this world, the living and the dead may converse once more, a blessing as a result of the mercy of Ilia.”

     “So, Ilia is real?” Heinwald wondered.

     “She is, but not quite in the way the Ilian Church described,” Charlotte continued, “I will avoid going into detail as to not place ideals that would be deemed heretical by the Church in Curran’s mind, but I will say that her existence is undeniable.”

     “So this is a place between our worlds,” Curran rehashed, “Is there a way to return to our own world?”

     “Of course there is,” Charlotte answered, “But I fear that once we part, I will not see you two again until after you pass on. This realm is granted as one final wish of the deceased, granting them one opportunity to see their loved ones once more. However, once they choose to use it, they cannot return again. Most of us deceased choose to use it while our loved ones are asleep, as they will think it was just a dream. I however, kept saving my chance. Now I am glad that I did. Thanks to this blessing, I was able to protect my son one last time.”

   “What do you mean mother?” Heinwald wondered.

     “When you were shot down by that mob, I sent your soul into stasis,” she elaborated, “While Nyarlathotep had your soul within his grasp, I could at the very least protect you from dying. But my efforts would have been in vain if not for Curran. If he hadn’t freed you from the Abyss, I would have had to release your soul, and you would have suffered the fate that beast had intended for you. Curran, thank you for saving my son.”

     Curran humbly rubbed the back of his neck, “Well, he kind of saved me. If it weren’t for him cutting off Nyarla’s head, I would have been roast.”

     Heinwald and Charlotte giggled, replying in synchrony, “It’s ‘toast’!”

     “Regardless,” Charlotte smiled, “You could have easily just saved yourself and left Heinwald in the Abyss, yet you chose to fight for his sake. I can happily and proudly leave him in your care.”

     Charlotte joined Curran and Heinwald’s hands, bringing the two together with her blessing. The field of flowers began to fade away, closing in on the island of the hill.

     “I fear our time together has reached its limit,” she sighed, “Your souls will soon be returned to your bodies.”

     “About our bodies,” Curran asked, “Will they be ok? We were in the Abyss for quite some time.”

     “Time works differently in these parallel planes,” Charlotte explained, “Whether it is here or the Abyss, time passes far quicker than it does in the worlds of the living at the dead. One day in a parallel plane equates to one minute in your world. When you return, it will be as if you never left.”

     Heinwald shifted his gaze from Curran back to his mother. Her body was already beginning to fade into the light of the afterlife.

     “Mother…” Heinwald said, “I’m going to miss you…”

     “I’ll miss you too, my son,” Charlotte replied, kissing him gently on the cheek, “But I will always be watching over you. Je suis très fier de toi.”

     She approached Curran as well, kissing him on the cheek as if welcoming him to her family.

     “Take care of Heinwald,” she smiled.

     “I will,” Curran responded, “I promise I’ll make him happy.”

     Charlotte grinned as she faded away, “Adieu. Je t’aime mon fils.”

     Heinwald and Curran felt themselves being whisked away from this world of light, suddenly reawakening in their own world. Curran still bore the scars he had gained in his fight with Nyarlathotep, but something was different about Heinwald. As he opened his eyes, his body began to glow. The crowd of mercenaries and villagers around them gasped in shock as he floated into the air, his body being consumed by light. His wings, horns, and tail shrunk away, his silhouette becoming more human. The gray patches of skin across his body returned to a uniform, porcelain tone and the white streaks of hair tinged jet-black once more. His body gently floated down from the air, landing in Curran’s arms. Heinwald gazed at his right hand, no longer gray and course, and ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t feel barbed horns and his hair had become soft to the touch once more.

     “Curran,” Heinwald said in awe, “I’m… I’m back to normal.”

     Curran gaped at Heinwald’s appearance. He still loved him even when he was cursed to look like a monster, but with the curse lifted, he was breathtaking.

     “You’re beautiful,” he gaped.

     “Wait a minute…” Vanessa shouted from the crowd, “What happened to the monster? Why did he turn into a normal guy?”

     “That’s no normal guy…” a mercenary noticed, “That’s… that’s Lord Wolfgang’s son! Lord Heinwald!”

     “I thought he died ten years ago!” another crowd member shouted, “He’s really been alive all this time?”

     Heinwald turned to Curran, waiting for a nod of assurance before addressing the crowd.

     “Yes,” Heinwald replied, “For the past ten years, I was under a horrible curse that made me appear as a hideous beast. I isolated myself out of fear of being despised, but recently, I have discovered something. Isolation only makes your fears worse. It takes courage to let yourself be vulnerable, to bear your soul for another, to open your heart to kindness and love. But the trial is well worth it. Thanks to Curran, I have found a reason to live. I have found love, and our love for each other has broken my curse.”

     “Curran…” Alex stammered, “You… you weren’t brainwashed… you were telling the truth…”

     “Of course I was telling the truth,” Curran responded, “Why would I lie about the man I’ve fallen in love with? Heinwald was never a monster. He has, and always will be beautiful to me.”

     “Curran…” Heinwald blushed.

     Curran pulled Heinwald into a kiss, tenderly cupping his face as he pulled him close. Heinwald graciously accepted, returning the kiss as if nothing else in the world mattered. The crowd’s mutters of shock meant nothing to him. He had Curran, the man who lifted his curse, the man who gave his life meaning, the man who he loved. Heinwald pulled away, gazing into Currans blue eyes.

     “I love you Curran,” Heinwald smiled, “And I always will.”


	20. Le Fin de Compte des Fées

     Curran took a deep breath, looking up at the idol standing tall by the altar of the Ilian Church. His palms grew damp with sweat and his tie felt tight around his neck. Curran feared that his suit, such fine, sophisticated garments looked unfitting on someone from humble roots like him. Pre-ceremony jitters were getting to him. He gritted his teeth in anticipation, turning his gaze to the crowd sitting in the pews. Friends, colleagues, and family had gathered from near and far to celebrate this day with him, yet the most important person had still yet to arrive.

     Suddenly the door to the church swung open, revealing the other guest of honor, Heinwald. His long black hair was braided into a beautiful coronette across the crown of his head, white flowers tucked gently into the braids. His elegant white robes were embroidered with gold designs and decorated with delicate lace. A long, translucent veil cascaded down his back, dragging in a fluttering trail behind him. Curran’s jaw dropped. His fiancé looked absolutely stunning.

     The organist began playing the wedding march for the soon to be married couple, beautiful music ringing throughout the cathedral. Lathna skipped down the aisle, scattering white rose petals across the floor. Headmaster Walt of Caldia stood up from the crowd, grabbing Heinwald’s hand to escort him to Curran. Even if Heinwald’s father were still alive, Heinwald would have still given the privilege of walking him down the aisle at his wedding to Walt. Walt was far more of a father to him that his actual father ever was. Once the two reached the altar, Walt gave Heinwald a hug before handing him off to Curran to take their vows. The Cardinal signaled the organist to stop, clearing his throat as he stood between the couple.

     “We have gathered here today,” he started, “To bond these two men together under the sacrament of holy matrimony. The Goddess herself is surely smiling down upon this happy couple, joining us here to witness their eternal bond of marriage. Curran is a shining example of an inquisitor, wielding his ax with all the strength and mercy of Ilia. With Heinwald, such a naturally gifted detective, as his partner, the Inquisition has brought justice across the land, apprehending heretics and sinners who would defy Ilia’s kindess. They are ideal partners in both work and life, and it is an honor to bring these two men together as husbands. May the ring bearer present the rings so the couple may say their wedding vows.”

     Mikey, a friend of Lathna at the orphanage walked down the aisle with Curran and Heinwald’s rings sitting down upon a silk pillow. The pair took their rings in hand, gazing into each other’s eyes. Curran gently slid his ring onto Heinwald’s ring finger of his left hand, taking a deep breath as he prepared to say his vows.

     “Heinwald,” he said, “With this ring, I vow to cherish you and protect you so long as we both shall live. My devotion to you will never waver, my love for you will always pursist through both the good and the bad. You are beautiful, both inside and out, with a kind soul and a loving heart. I will give you my everything. I will love you until the end of time. I will always be yours, and I am blessed that you are mine.”

     Heinwald blushed as he gave Curran his ring, sliding it up his ring finger.

     “Curran,” Heinwald smiled, tears of joy forming in the corners of his eyes, “Before you came into my life, I felt like I was drowning in a sea of eternal misery. I had lost everything: my mother, my sister, even my reason to live. Your love has pulled me from my suffering. You have shown me the light of love, the pleasure of happiness. You make me a better man. I look forward to our lives of happiness together, and with this ring, I offer myself to you, for better or worse, ‘til death do us part.”

     “Then by the power vested in me,” the Cardinal announced, “I now pronounce you lawfully wedded husbands. You may now kiss.”

     Curran pulled Heinwald close, kissing him lovingly as the crowd of loved ones erupted in applause. Tears spilt from Heinwald’s eyes. This had to be the happiest moment of his life. He was married to the man of his dreams. Heinwald feared that he would wake up as if this was a fleeting dream, returning to his nightmarish hell from months ago. When they pulled away, the organist resumed playing in honor of the now married couple. Lucretia, the maid of honor opened her mouth to raise cheers and sing.

     “Congratulations to the happy couple, Curran and Heinwald!” she beamed.

     Her beautiful voice filled the Church as the pair walked down the aisle. Friends and family offered their hands to shake in congratulations. They opened the doors to the bright town square, a horse drawn carriage waiting to take them back to their manor for the wedding dinner and party. Curran opened the door to the carriage, helping Heinwald into the vehicle. His veil trailed in gently behind him. Carefully, he pulled it on top of his lap, trying to avoid getting the white fabric dirty. Lathna rushed up to the couple’s carriage, hugging Curran’s leg happily. She held a sloppily wrapped present, tied with a large purple bow, behind her back.

     “Big brother!” she smiled, “Congratulations! Can I ride with you to the party too?”

     Curran looked to Heinwald for approval.

     “Can she?” he asked.

     “I don’t see why not,” Heinwald chuckled, “Come on, Lathna.”

     “Yay!” Lathna cheered.

     Curran lifted her up into the carriage, sitting her next to Heinwald. Curran joined in, sitting down in the carriage and signaling to the driver that they were ready to go. The driver cracked the reins, making the horses trot off from the town square towards Heinwald’s estate. Lathna eagerly looked out the window, waving to all of the guests of the ceremony as they rode away.

     “I feel like a princess!” Lathna beamed, “This is so much fun!”

     Curran patted her on the head, “You look like one too Lathna. You were quite the adorable flower girl today.”

     “Thank you for helping us out at our wedding, Lathna,” Heinwald cooed.

     “You make my big brother so happy! I’m glad I could help!” Lathna replied, “Oh by the way!”

     She handed Heinwald the sloppily wrapped present, smiling from ear to ear with pride.

     “I worked really hard to make this gift for you!” she grinned, “I hope you like it!”

     “How sweet of you,” Heinwald responded kindly, “Would you like me to open it now, or wait until later?”

     “Now! Open it now!” Lathna exclaimed.

     Heinwald untied the purple bow, ripping off the wrapping paper on Lathna’s homemade gift. He tossed aside the paper, discovering a hand-drawn picture book. On the cover was a childish drawing of a purple dragon and a knight in shining armor. The dragon had the same glasses as Heinwald and the knight looked similar to Curran. Scrawled across the top of the book was the title, _The Knight and the Dragon_. Lathna giggled as Heinwald examined the book.

     “The other orphans and I love when you come and read to us,” Lathna explained, “So I made you a picture book! Do you like it?”

     “I love it Lathna,” Heinwald smiled, “Thank you. Shall I read it?”

     “Please do!” she beamed.

     Heinwald opened up the book to the first page, clearing his throat before reading it aloud.

     “Once upon a time,” he read, “There was a big scary dragon. He lived all alone in a big castle in the middle of a field. Everyone in the town was scared of him because he looked like a scary monster, but the dragon was just lonely. He wanted a friend. One day, a princess in the town was playing by the dragon’s castle. The dragon was so happy. She was the first human he had seen in ten years. He got so happy to see her that he brought her inside his castle, excited to play with her. But the princess was so scared. She thought the dragon was going to eat her! Later that day, the princess’ big brother, a knight came to rescue her. The dragon let her leave, but only if the knight stayed instead. The knight was angry that he couldn’t leave the dragon’s castle, but after a while, he and the dragon became really close. Soon the dragon confessed the truth to the knight. He wasn’t really a dragon. He was under an evil monster’s spell. Only true love’s kiss would break the curse. Suddenly the knight got an idea. He walked up to the dragon and kissed him on his snout! Then the dragon turned into a handsome prince! The knight was his true love. The knight and the prince got married and they lived happily ever after.”

     “That story seems awfully familiar, huh Heinwald?” Curran chuckled.

     “Yeah, but I can’t put my finger on it,” Heinwald joked.

     “It’s supposed to be about you and Curran!” Lathna explained.

     “Oh?” Heinwald replied, “So I was the handsome prince?”

     “Yeah and big brother was the knight!” Lathna cheered, “Did you like the book?”

     “I loved it Lathna,” Heinwald answered.

     “You know Lathna,” Curran interjected, “You might be hearing this story a lot more often.”

     “You’re going to read it at the orphanage, Heinwald?” Lathna wondered.

     “Well, I suppose we could still come and visit,” Heinwald explained, “But I’d rather read it to you as a bedtime story in the comfort of your own room.”

     Lathna gasped as Curran and Heinwald grabbed her hands.

     “Lathna,” Curran said, “Do you want to be our daughter?”

     “Your…” she stammered, “Your daughter? You’re going to adopt me?”

     “We already got the papers from Alex,” Heinwald said, “Would you like us to be your dads, Lathna?”

     “I’m going to have a family…” Lathna cheered, “I’m going to have two papas! Thank you big bro- I mean… Papa!”

     The carriage came to a sudden stop. Curran looked out the window to see Heinwald’s manor. After several months of refurbishing, the estate looked as good as new. They had lost quite a few antiques thanks to treasure hunters and mercenaries pillaging his home, but everything that was lost could be replaced. Curran opened up the door to the carriage, letting Heinwald and Lathna out to go into the manor. The guest band was setting up their equipment caterers were busy cooking dinner for the party. Curran joined Heinwald and Lathna inside, checking on the caterers in the kitchen. Several Qilin chefs from Dim Sum Mai were steaming dumplings and frying rice in deep woks.

   “The appetizers will be ready shortly,” Chef Mai said, “We will start serving as soon as the guests arrive.”

     Heinwald looked out the window to see their guests arriving both on foot and in carriages. Lathna rushed to the front door, eager to greet the friends and family coming to the party. Friends and family poured into the manor, congratulating the married couple on their matrimony and offering them their gifts. Qilin waitresses from Dim Sum Mai walked around the party, offering dumplings and drinks to the guests. The band played calming ambient music, allowing the happy couple to socialize and snack on dim sum appetizers. When dinner was ready, everyone gathered at the massive table in the dining room, Heinwald and Curran taking their positions as the head. As the caterers brought out the meal, Lucretia stood up from her seat, clinking her glass with a fork.

     “Everyone,” she began, “I would like to raise a toast to the happy couple. Heinwald, it was my pleasure to serve as your maid of honor, and I wish you nothing but a life of happiness and love with your new husband. It seems like it was just yesterday when we were students at Caldia, studying for hours upon end in the library. I remember how devoted you were to your studies and knew you were going to change the world. When I first met Curran at the festival, I knew he was perfect for you. I am so happy that you two have found each other. Your love seems so unconditional, so pure. I know you will keep each other happy for the rest of your lives. To Curran and Heinwald!”

     “To Curran and Heinwald!” everyone replied.

     The room was filled with the sound of clinking glasses as the guests and hosts toasted their glasses. The meal was an exquisite array of delicacies, from traditional Qilin dishes to regional favorites. Heinwald however, was most excited about the cake. Throughout the meal and all of the other special guests’ speeches, he kept glancing at the wedding cake, its beautiful vanilla frosting glistening under the light of the sconces. Curran laughed as Heinwald’s mouth began to visibly water.

     “Are you going to be able to hold out for the cake?” Curran teased, “You look like you want to dive into it.”

     “I’ll live,” Heinwald sighed, “It just looks so good…”

     “You and your sweet tooth… Would a dance help to tide you over for now?”

     Heinwald blushed as Curran extended his hand to him. He took his hand and stood up from the table, heading to the dance floor.

     “It looks like our happy couple is about to have their first dance,” the band’s MC announced, “We would like to ask Miss Lucretia to join us, as they have requested you to sing ‘La Bestia insieme a Bella’ for them.”

     “Of course,” Lucretia replied, “An excellent song choice for their first dance as husbands.”

     She winked at Heinwald as she approached the microphone, opening her mouth to sing the familiar, yet beautiful tune. Curran’s hands fell to Heinwald’s hips while Heinwald draped his over Curran’s shoulders as Curran pulled him in close. They gazed into each other’s eyes as Curran led Heinwald in their dance. Heinwald rested his head on Curran’s shoulder, feeling transported back to the festival where they shared a dance under the moonlight to this same song. He recalled the warm press of Curran’s lips as they shared their first kiss, that sweet, tender intimacy as they danced the night away. It felt like it was just yesterday, when they took the first step past the line between friends and lovers. Now here they were, sharing a dance to the same song as a married couple. Heinwald gently kissed Curran on the lips as the song came to a close, eliciting applause from their guests.

     “Congratulations!” Lucretia cheered.

     Several other guests joined them on the dance floor, the music changing from the gentle melody of the first dance to a lively waltz. Lathna weaved between the dancing guests and couples, tugging on Heinwald’s veil to get his attention.

   “Papa,” she whispered, “Are we going to eat the cake soon?”

   Heinwald knelt down to Lathna’s level, patting her gently on her shoulder.

     “I hope so,” Heinwald chuckled, “Maybe after a few more songs.”

     “Can I dance with you until then?”

     Heinwald bowed, extending his hand to offer her the next dance.

     “Of course, princess,” he said cordially.

     Heinwald spun Lathna around, making her poofy dress twirl. Lathna giggled as she danced with one of her soon to be fathers, twirling, jumping, and dipping across the dance floor. Heinwald smiled, happy to see Lathna enjoying herself. He always feared that kids disliked him since he was so introverted, but Lathna was a kindred spirit to his own. She shared his love of books and thirst for knowledge. Heinwald couldn’t wait to share his favorite stories from his childhood with her, much like his mother did with him. After several dances, Curran and Heinwald headed over to the cake display, preparing to cut and share the first slice of cake. Their guests crowded around the cake, watching as their knife slide through the delicate sponge and creamy frosting. Curran pulled out the slice, revealing a pure white vanilla cake with fresh strawberries sandwiched between the layers, swimming in fluffy frosting. He plunged his fork into the cake, feeding Heinwald the first bite. Heinwald’s face lit up as he savored the sweet bite of cake, now picking up his fork to feed Curran some cake.

     “I want some!” Lathna shouted, “It looks so yummy!!!”

     “We’ll give you the next piece then,” Heinwald replied.

     The Qilin waiters and waitresses divided up the rest of the cake for the guests to enjoy. Lathna beamed as she devoured her slice of cake while Heinwald snuck up for another piece. Slowly the party began to die down as guests left, gave Curran and Heinwald their gifts, and said their goodbyes. As the moon rose high in the sky, Lathna started nodding off, lying down on the couch in the foyer for a nap. Once the last guest had left, Curran picked her up in his arms, stroking her hair gently.

     “Looks like she’s out for the night,” Heinwald smiled, “Let’s get her tucked into bed.”

     They carried her upstairs into Heinwald’s old room, tucking her under the sheets and resting her head on the pillow. Gently, they each kissed her goodnight on the forehead, leaving her to sleep and closing the door behind them.

     “You sure you’re alright with giving her your old room, Heinwald?” Curran asked, “I know you said the master bedroom brought back bad memories.”

     “I have you to help me overwrite them,” Heinwald replied, kissing Curran lovingly, “Now how about we get started on that.”

     Curran smirked, staring at Heinwald through half lidded eyes as his hands began to wander.

     “Eager to constipate the marriage huh?” he growled.

     “It’s ‘consummate,’ Curran!” Heinwald giggled, “Thank goodness you didn’t trip up like that in the vows.”

     Heinwald yelped as Curran picked up him, carrying him princess style to the master bedroom. He threw Heinwald onto the bed, climbing on top of him and pushing him into the sheets as he forced his tongue past his pliant lips. Heinwald mewled, accepting the kiss and wrapping his arms around Curran’s shoulders to bring him closer. Curran hungrily began to strip off Heinwald’s clothing, shrugging off his robes and unbuttoning his undershirt. His eyes bulged as he noticed white lace clinging to Heinwald’s skin under the fabric of his shirt.

     “What do we have here?” Curran purred.

     Heinwald wriggled out from under Curran, straddling him and seductively removing the rest of his clothing to reveal scanty white lingerie. A lace garter hugged his hips, holding up a pair of translucent white stockings that enrobed his slender legs. His erection strained against his white lace thong and his pink nipples hardened under his lace bra.

     “Do you like your surprise?” Heinwald teased.

     Curran squeezed hard on Heinwald’s exposed ass, bucking his hips upward and making Heinwald mewl. Heinwald could feel Curran’s boner rubbing against him through the fabric of his trousers.

     “You’re so sexy,” Curran purred, “How did I get so lucky to get such a beautiful husband?”

     “Husband,” Heinwald repeated, “Every time I hear that it makes my heart skip a beat.”

     Curran pulled Heinwald close, grinding their hips together while whispering in his ear.

     “I love you, Heinwald,” he murmured, “My adorable husband.”

     Heinwald whimpered as he felt Curran’s fingers slide under the lace of his thong, pressing into his puckered hole.

     “Curran…” he mewled, “I want you so bad…”

     “You’ll have to be quiet,” Curran teased, “You don’t want to wake Lathna, do you?”

     Heinwald moaned as Curran’s finger dug into his prostate.

     “Use some lube, would you?” Heinwald whined.

     Curran chuckled as he pulled his finger out, pushing Heinwald off of him to grab a bottle of lube from the nightstand.

     “I was just teasing you,” he laughed, “Don’t worry Heinwald, I’ll make sure to prepare you well. You’re going to need it.”

     Curran coated his fingers in lube, gently massaging Heinwald’s entrance. Heinwald relaxed into the press of Curran’s fingers, arching his back into the stretch.

     “We’re…” he panted, “We’re going to be fucking all night aren’t we?”

     “You know it,” Curran smirked, “With how sexy you’re dressed I can’t help myself.”

     “Then help yourself.”

     Curran peppered kisses and bites along the inside of Heinwald’s thighs, trailing his tongue to his erection. The red, swollen head twitched under the scratch of the lace thong, leaking thick precum from the tip. Curran kissed his dick through the fabric of his panties, lapping up the salty precum as he continued fingering and stretching Heinwald’s hole. Heinwald threw his head back in pleasure, moaning at the overstimulation. It felt amazing, but he wanted more.

     “Cu… Curran…” he cooed, “That… That’s enough… Take off your pants. I want to ride you.”

     Curran pulled away from Heinwald’s crotch, yanking off his clothes until he was completely bare. Heinwald pulled off his thong and tossed them off the side of the bed. He drooled at the sight of his pulsing erection, kissing the head before coating it in lube and straddling over it. Carefully, he positioned the blunt tip at his entrance, taking a deep breath as he lowered himself onto it, taking inch after inch inside of him until he felt the firm press of Curran’s hips against his own. Slowly, he began to rock his hips up and down, mewling as he pounded his tender prostate.

     “Ah, this is heaven,” he moaned, “Curran it feels so good…”

     Heinwald shrieked as Curran dug his fingers into his hips, slamming his dick deep inside.

     “By Ilia you’re so cute,” Curran growled, “Watching you fuck yourself on my cock, that slutty lingerie, that smug, satisfied look on your face… it just makes me want to fuck you harder!”

     Curran pulled out, flipping Heinwald over onto all fours before cramming his cock back inside. Heinwald shrieked at the rough entrance, panting as Curran mercilessly pounded his sweet spot. Curran’s dick was reaching his deepest spots, his balls slapping against Heinwald’s as he fucked him hard from behind. He ran his fingers through Heinwald’s jet-black hair, unraveling his braids as he tugged sharply at his hair. Jolts of pain and pleasure shot through Heinwald’s scalp, only intensifying the heat pooling in his groin.

     “Curran…” he whimpered, “Harder Curran…”

     “Yeah, you like it rough don’t you?” Curran teased.

     “I do… It feels amazing…”

     Heinwald cried out in ecstasy as Curran picked up the pace. The intense pleasure was mind-numbing, addictive, intoxicating. Each thrust brought him closer to release, but he didn’t want it to end. Heinwald loved the intimacy of Curran’s love-making, the warmth of his touch, the comfort of having him inside of him. Heinwald began shoving his hips back into Curran’s matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

     “Curran…” he screamed, “I love you… Kiss me… Curran!”

     Curran kissed him passionately, muffling Heinwald’s moans as he climaxed, spilling his seed all over his chest. The tensing of Heinwald’s insides was enough to send Curran over the edge, pouring his essence deep inside of Heinwald’s body. Slowly, Curran pulled out, hugging Heinwald close as they both collapsed, limp onto the bed. They gazed into each other’s eyes, their smiles of afterglow turning into intimate laughter. Curran gently stroked Heinwald’s cheek, running his thumb over the scar on his left eye.

     “I love you so much,” Curran smiled.

     “I love you too,” Heinwald replied, “Curran, you make me so happy. I’m so lucky to have you as my husband.”

     Heinwald kissed Curran chastely on the lips before nuzzling into his broad chest.

     “We’ll always be together now,” Curran comforted.

     Heinwald laughed, closing his eyes to relax into Curran’s soft embrace, “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this fic! A lot of hard work went into it and it was my first long-form ever. The word count ended up being around the same length as the first Harry Potter book, so I appreciate everyone who stuck around until the end! Sorry for the slow update schedule for the last few chapters! I hope that the ending was worth the wait!


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